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rustboxstarr · 6 months

Note

Hey! I was reading one of your stories and it was so good I immediately started following you <3

Anyways could you write a story about reader being flat (like no ass and skinny legs) and shes being insecure about it. So while Eddie and reader are undressing for sex she looks in the mirror to her body and Eddie asks what’s wrong and she tells? I kinda can relate to this so I would love a story like this 🫶🏻

You can change it a little bit ofcourse! Already thank you very much!!

❤️You're perfect.❤️

Summary: Alcohol is always set to cloud your mind, but some things will sober your right up. Especially when you suddenly realize you're actually going to have to show your biggest insecurity to your boyfriend.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Flat!Reader

Warnings: Smut, P in V, fingering (f receiving), cream pie (Eddie cums a lot) - hints at Eddie being insecure about his, squirting, insecurity, slight angst, fluff. Drunk sex! If that makes you uncomfortable DO NOT READ, consent is neither mentioned or implied in the writing but it IS consensual because I say so and I wrote it so *sticks out tongue* also I have never understood why people think its ok to write about high sex but not drunk sex? Like can someone please explain?

Wordcount: 4.1 k

A/N: Thank you for the request babes, I hope you like it ❤️

Also I highly reccomend listening to Destroy Boys while reading this, becuase I was and it was the closest vibe to drunk sex I could find, like why is there no good drunk sex music? Does anyone have any recommendations? because I'm sick of seeing Chase Atlantic everywhere.

Feel free to request, I love writing requests! ❤️

Love yas!

Check out my other works!

Your whole head vibrates with an alcohol induced haze, spinning you around and losing your touch with reality and all things surrounding you, except for one thing. Broad palms are on you the second you burst through the door of the Harrington basement, plush lips forcing against your own in passionate kisses. The door slams shut behind you as Eddie’s hands push your hoodie off your shoulders, he revels in the sound of your sugary sweet giggle as he stumbles over his own feet, desperately trying to kick his sneakers off without ever letting his hands leave your body.

A gasp whisps its way into the air as Eddie forces you against the door, the smirk painted across his face grazes your lips and it sends bolts of lightning down your spine, the soft sparkle in his eye that reflects the dim lighting of the small space as he gazes softly in your eyes prompting goosebumps to freckle your skin before his lips are on yours again. Your hands force his jacket down his arms and he chuckles as he tries to wriggle himself free of the leather.

His hand finds your cheek to pull you towards him again while the other plants a firm grasp on your hip, chipped nail polish scratches down his back as your arms circle him.

It’s all a mix of hot breaths and gasps as hands roam skin and tongues dance around each other, a mix of beer and vodka muddles on your tastebuds to accompany the fresh cigarette smoke that fills your senses when you breathe him in. All you can focus on is the way his body feels against yours, how his hands grip at your hips while yours rake through his curls.

But you quickly pull one away when you feel his grip snake around your waist, before he has a chance to plant a firm grip on your ass your fingers lace with his, guiding him up to palm at your chest in a frenzy.

You manage a second of relief at his compliance before both of his hands travel down your body, you're just about to slap them away before they have a chance to travel further south when you feel yourself being lifted into the air. You're too distracted by his lips finding yours again to dwell on the situation or even realise what you're about to get yourself into as your back smacks against the bathroom door before it swings open.

You land on the bathroom counter with a heavy thud, heavy breath escaping both of your mouths as they circle around your heads, drifting above you like the smoke in cartoons. His lips are on yours again, kissing with a furious and drunk passion as you feel callused fingers search for the hem of your t-shirt. There is not a single warning bell that goes off in your head, the bellkeep has gone to sleep with the amount of vodka mixers, shitty beers and tequila shots you downed just a mere minute ago upstairs with the rest of the shitfaced partygoers. Your own fingers find the hem of your shirt and you pull it up over your head, throwing it behind him to be found later. Those same callused fingers smooth over your cheeks as he cups your face and brings you in close, attaching his lips to yours after gazing at you with an expression that can only be described as love.

Your own hands wander to his shirt and he rips away instantly, letting you pull the black fabric off of him and discarding Ozzy’s face on the floor with your own t-shirt. Your hands explore his body, dragging your fingers up the expanse of his torso, from the soft patch of curls that form his happy trail, past the soft pudge of his stomach, to his shapely pecs and finally gliding over his shoulders, grasping onto them and pulling him back in. You only manage to revel in the sensation of his lips hard against yours for a second before they’re pulling away, the thick pad of his thumb forces your chin up as he starts trailing kisses down your neck, soft breaths echo around the practically dark room, save for the sliver of light the frosted glass window lets through.

His hands find your hips, gripping onto them as if to ground himself before they travel to the cups of your bra, palming desperately at your tits while a soft groans slips past his lips. “You don’t know how many times I’ve pictured these beauties, please babe, you- you gotta let me see them” there's a soft slur to his words but you're too distracted by the feeling of his hands against your body to care that neither of you are truly in a fit state to be doing any of this.

“Well how can I resist when you're asking so nicely” you chuckle, watching the dark pool of desperation that swims about in his irises. Within seconds his hands are at your back, undoing the clasp to the black fabric that hugs your frame and you're too caught up in this moment, being here with Eddie, to even let a shred of insecurity bubble up at the fact that he’s about to see your boobs, who are nowhere near up to the standard of small perky boobs. The thought of him being grossed out by how they sag from the weight doesn't even have a chance to cross your mind before a loud groan rumbles from the depth of his chest and his hands are back, gripping, palming and squeezing at anything he can get his hands on. “Fuck, ‘s- fuckin’ perfect” his words only bounce around in your head in one big jumble as you feel the warmth of his tongue swipe over one of your nipples. You feel as the skin tightens around the nub and that ticklish sensation of your nipples being erect as his lips wrap around it, skilled fingers swiping delicately over your other nipple, teasing you with the faintness of his touch. A strangled moan bounces around the room as his lips suction around you, tickling you in the strangest, weirdest, best way. No one had ever done this, and it was safe to say it felt super weird… but also earth shatteringly good and especially when the tingling feeling between your thighs -that had sat comfortable since you and Eddie has started whispering slurred words by each others ears upstairs- only grew in strength.

Your fingers tread through his curls as he moves on to your other side, treating your other nipple with the same insane pleasure as he had done before. Soon enough his kisses start trailing down, kissing between your tits, slowly and steadily moving down down down, and over your stomach (that tickles too, but not in the same way). He only grins up at you at the sound of your giggle. There are so many insecurities on display that, in the right headspace, would have you heaving with anxiety, but none of them manage to surface to the front of your mind as your drunk haze can only fixate on Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie. As he kisses down your head falls back against the wall, lolling on your shoulders to find the other end of the L shaped counter, you see yourself in the mirror and smile drunkenly at the picture it presents. Eddie kissing down your stomach, hands trailing up and down your torso as lust filled eyes watch your face.

Insecurity gnaws at you however, as your eyes drift to his torsos slotted between your thighs.

The alcohol induced illusion shatters, however, the second his nimble fingers find your belt buckle, suddenly you pull yourself up straight, pulling your waist away from him. The fog has cleared and you have sobered up within the matter of a millisecond and you stare with wide, fearful eyes at the mop of brown hair that suddenly moves. He stands up again from his sinking position to the floor and finds your eyes with his own worried ones. “What’s- what’s wrong?” It seems his own fog has lifted as he stares down at you, one hand coming to caress your cheek while the other smooths up and down your arm.

Your mouth opens, and then it closes. You find yourself at a loss for words as you stare up at him, dim moonlight shining around him, blurring everything else in the room, dark, misty eyes, glazed over with pure, unfiltered concern, soft pink lips tugged into a small pout, milky white skin glowing below clusters of freckles that travel from his face and down the lengths of his arms, each one further from the other. God he’s perfect. Why would you ever want to ruin this moment?

“Nothing” you breathe a strained chuckle, “Just uh, backs, hurting” you slink your hand between yourself and the wall and make a show of stretching out your back. “Oh” he chuckles, the soft breath plays like music in your ears, as he scans the room, “Here” he stretches over you and reveals two folded up towels, his smile is happy and hopeful as he waits for you to lean forward so he can place them behind your back. “Thanks” you whisper as he slides back into place between your thighs, “Better?” his eyes, god those eyes, wide, baby cow eyes, glinting under the moonlight above the sweet smile pulling at his lips. “Yeah, yeah” you breathe, you can’t take those eyes, they confront you, they force you to curl under the depth of them, waiting for you to tell the truth because they know you’re lying. You can’t take it, so, you quickly pull him in by his neck, sinking your lips into his, kissing him desperately, willing the sight of his eyes out of your mind.

Your thighs glide against the counter, sliding down onto the floor and forcing Eddie against the other end of the counter, he yelps in surprise at the quick action but within no time matches your energy, hands grasping on to your hips again. Your whole body cringes as his hands slide down your back to grab a handful of your ass, but you power through, and feel shocked as you focus on those delicious groans escaping his throat, groans that were prompted by his hands on your ass. His hands squeeze firmly and he pulls you towards him, pressing below your stomach is what really sets off the fire between your legs. His hard cock forces against your mound and you feel your thighs squeeze together unprompted at the action, squeezing tight at the obnoxious groan that vibrates in your ears.

Your lips move at a furious pace together as both of your hips begin dancing in sync, grinding against each other with no shame. Your hands grip and scratch at any skin you can find, his biceps, his shoulder, his chest, back, shoulder blades, face, anything. You can feel the drunken haze begin to fog your mind again as you lose yourself with him, his own must be too as he sways slightly while he broadens his stance, allowing you to press yourself closer to him.

His hands find your hips again and he twirls you around, quick to pull you back in again to force your ass against his throbbing cock, his lips kiss down your neck, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels your hands pull at his curls. He breathes a ragged “Fuck” as his hips begin to roll against your own, holding on tighter as he hears your breaths grow louder. “Shit, need to be inside you so bad, you don't even wanna’ know” he whispers against your shoulder, you chuckle breathily while your own lips find his neck, kissing at anything you can reach. Squeezing your eyes shut tight as you feel his hands find your belt buckle again, but this time you don’t stop him, there's an indescribable urge to fight back, to prove yourself. To whom? You have no idea, but you know you're not stopping now, not when his body feels so warm and inviting behind yours, not when his hands have gripped onto your body the way they have, not when his kisses have felt so intoxicating.

He undoes the buckle, and then the belt, and then finally the zipper.

You brace yourself for the impact.

But nothing comes, his fingers snake their way past the open zipper of your baggy jeans and slip under the hem of your panties. You release a sigh of relief thats replaced by a soft moan when you feel warm fingers make their way between your folds, his own breath is heavy and hot against your skin as his eyes once again roll to the back of your head “Fuck, you’re so wet” his teeth graze the soft skin of your shoulder as you look down to find his hand moving beneath the denim. His fingers glide down to your hole, collecting your slick before he begins an agonisingly slow tackle of your clit. He grins wildly at the whimper that rings in his ears while you twitch slightly in front of him.

The feeling of his soft lips trailing kisses up and down your neck and shoulder accompanied by the exciting press of his throbbing cock against you and the wickedly cruel slow circles on your clit have your breath speeding up, loud pants slowly transitioning into breathy moans that has Eddie grinding against you in a furious pace. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and it lolls on your neck, splaying your hair over Eddie's shoulder as his movements speed up. While your hands grip desperately at the counter, Eddie's free one finds your tit, palming at it in tune with every deep groan that vibrates through his chest. His hips move with yours as you grind down on his fingers and an obnoxiously loud moan echoes throughout the small bathroom -sure to travel up to unsuspecting ears upstairs- at the harsh press and increased pace of his digits against you.

A string of curses bounce around the walls as you feel the tingling between your thighs begin to tighten into a coil, everything is simply euphoric. The dull drum of the music upstairs, travelling through the floor to the almost completely dark bathroom, the delicious sound of Eddie's groans and pants mixing with your own, his warm body against yours, encircling you, the sensation of his fingertip against your clit, his lips grazing your skin, his fingers now tweaking your nipple has you writhing against him. “Fuck, m’gonna- ‘bout to- shit- mother fucker” a deafening moan rings in his ears as your whole body stiffens with the snap of the coil.

His kisses never cease as he waits out your orgasm and when you eventually come down from your high his lips find your cheek. “Good?” you can hear he’s out of breath as whispers against your cheek. He only chuckles at your tired nod and slowly slips his hand out of your pants, after wiping it off awkwardly on his own jeans it joins across from his other hand. Broad palms rest on your hips as he kneads the skin softly but when his lips manage to find yours you feel yourself snapping out of your tired post orgasmic state. You quickly turn in his grasp, lips forcing against his furiously, desperate to feel more of him. God if that's what he could do with his fingers you were dying to see what else he could do.

Within seconds he matches your energy, groaning as your tongues dance furiously. He manages to find your hips again and unsteadily walks you to the other side of the counter with your back to it. Your mind is too far gone to set off any warning bells as his hands rip the denim down your hips, past your thighs and letting them fall to the floor along with the delicate black fabric that previously would have protected your last bit of modesty. His hands grip your hips and he forces you up on the counter completely bare. The only thing you can feel at the moment is complete, utter desperation. Your fingers fiddle with his belt as his lips find yours again, when a bratty whine leaves your throat his own hands replace yours, hastily undoing his jeans and pulling them down his legs.

You manage to get a whole second to awe at the sheer size of him while he steps out of the fabric before a hand is wrapping around your ankle, forcing you to place your foot on the counter. The only break your lips get from each other is when a loud gasp breaks the seal at the sensation of his fat mushroom tip forcing past your entrance. A wide grin paints his features as he sheathes inside your cunt. Eddie knew this wasn't your first time but he still wanted to give you a second to adjust before he began pounding into you. His hands grasp onto your thighs and manoeuvre your legs to wrap around him. With each thrust your moans grew louder but neither of you had a care in the world that there were other people around.

His hands never left your thighs, as he began setting a steady pace of harsh thrusts his hands smoothed up and down your thighs, gripping occasionally as a raspy voice whispered “Fuck I love your thighs” suddenly your moans died down and all that could be heard was heavy breathing as your mind managed to focus on something other than the drag of his cock against your walls. “What?” your hoarse voice whispered “I fuckin’ love your thighs” his eyes didn’t meet yours, instead they were trained on the back of his head, half hidden behind his eyelids. “Love your ass, your tits, hips, face, stomach, arms, hands fuckin’ all of it, you’re so fuckin’ perfect” every word was a mix of pants between each harsh thrust into you. “You do?”

He managed to find your gaze as his hips slowed down “‘Course I do, I’d be a fuckin’ idiot not to” a concered expression found its way onto his features as he stared down at you. Your hands slid from his shoulder blades to his hips as they began to slow further until he was simply deeply seated inside you. “I- I was kind of nervous, cuz ya’ know…” you broke off shyly with a shrug. “Cuz what?” he frowned softly, “You know” you nodded towards your lower body, “No I don’t know” his frown etched deeper as his hands began soothing up and down your thighs again, the drunken haze seemed to have evaporated for the both of you, leaving behind a trace of distortion. “Jesus you really gonna’ make me say it?” you groaned, “Eh yes, I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“Because I’m flat and shit, like I’ve seen your ex dude, she has a literal hourglass shape, thick thighs, fat ass all that stuff guys like” you couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, instead your eyes found interest in the movement of his hand. “So? Everyones different, I’m not dating you for your body, that’s just a major plus, like have you seen you? You’re fucking perfect” his hand moved to softly manoeuver your face to look you in the eye. “You really think so?” you whispered, the moonlight shone in your eyes as you looked up at him, “Are you crazy? You’re perfect.”

Words were lost on you, all you could do was stretch up to place a soft kiss to his lips. One kiss turned to two and two turned to three, before you knew it your hands were gripping at his shoulder blades and your ankles were locking behind his back, pulling him closer as his tongue began to swipe against yours. Loud moans and groans muddled with offensive curses as his hips began thrusting at an incomprehensible speed. Hoarse fucks and shits echoed in your head as you felt the head of his cock nudge your cervix repeatedly and your nails clawed at his back.

This time when your head lolled on your shoulders to find the mirror all the picture looking back at you did was set hot flames inside the pit of your stomach.

Nothing could pull you out of this moment, not even the sound of bottles and soap dishes clashing into the floor as you sought out something to grip onto. “Fuck, yeah lean back” Eddie muttered as your hands found their place at the edge of the counter. The view of your tits bouncing up and down only had his hips gaining speed as he began pistoning in and out of you. “Fuck, fuck. Fucking perfect”

“Shit, don’t stop, feels so fucking good, don’t stop” your voice was high and squeaky as you moaned your words. “Not fuckin’ stopping for anything baby holy shit” While one hand gripped your hip the other grasped desperately onto your tit, “Mother fucker, just watching you would make me fucking cum” he groaned as your mouth dropped and your eyes rolled as far back as they physically could. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum!” your shriek was like music to his ears, “Fuck me too, shit gonna’ cum so hard” the awkward humiliation hidden beneath his whispered words were lost on you as you felt that same coil explode.

High pitched moans and deep groans didn’t even register in your head as the view of the bathroom was replaced with a blinding white and a deaf ringing accompanied it.

After what felt like forever you managed to open your eyes to find a mop of brown hair splayed across your chest as its accompanying body heaved up and down. Your fingers laced through his curls prompting him to stand up, his chest expanded with every deep breath he tried to take to find himself again and you only watched in amusement. “Funny, sex sobers you up” you chuckled breathlessly, earning a snort from the man across from you. “Hah, uuhh yeah you’re gonna need like a towel or something” he cringed as he looked down at your joined bodies, his thick creamy substance already beginning to drip down between your asscheeks. Your hand searched blindly for the towel next to you and you held it up to him with a goofy grin.

“Huh, fuck ok” he took a deep breath before his digits wrapped around the base of his cock. Moving ever so slowly he began pulling out of you. It seemed however that the coil hadn’t exactly exploded, part of it was still lying deep within you and you could feel it start to stretch with each millimetre that moved inside you. A loud whine sang from your chest as you felt him slowly pull out and suddenly the milky liquid buried deep inside you followed, you don’t know what prompted you to do it but suddenly the pad of your finger was circling your clit harshly as the hefty amount of cum Eddie had left behind began to trickle out of you.

He watched with wide eyes as you rubbed hard circles against the small nub, “Shit shit shit!” you shrieked as you felt that coil finally detonate. Hot clear liquid began to flood, drenching Eddie who stood mesmerised in front of you and it didn't stop until every last drop of Eddie's cum had pooled onto the floor. “Shit” you breathed heavily as you leaned forward, your head thudding against Eddie's chest. “Holy shit” he scoffed in amazement, you straightened up to see his face “That was like the hottest thing I’ve ever seen” his eyes were bulging out of his skull “We’re definitely getting you to do that again” all you could do was snort at his excited face before you slid off the counter onto your wobbly legs. Bending down to retrieve your underwear from the floor you feel a harsh smack to your ass and you stand up promptly to face him but before you can even get a word out his lips are on yours and his hands are gripping at the globes of your ass as he’s backing you against the counter again. “You can forget going upstairs, we’re staying down here all night.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson has adhd #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson headcons #Eddie Munson plus size reader #Eddie Munson x plus size reader #Eddie Munson x reader #headcanon #headcon #StarrWrites #StarrThinks #eddie munson fluff #Eddie x flat!reader

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frankcastlescumslut · 8 months

Text

Ch. 2: Hard Times

pairing: frank castle x f!reader / platonic!amy bendix x f!reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: angst, language, hurt/comfort, implied loss of a sister (no details), descriptions of wounds, established relationship yet somehow it’s a slow burn

summary: He somehow reached across space and time to tell you the words you wished you had heard that night: you didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is on you. Frank had become a god, transcending the laws of physics to piece you together with sutures and sympathies.

A/N: I wrote this chapter based off of this song. loosely. sorry this isn’t the happiest of endings, I’m leaving it open ended in case I get the momentum to keep going (there is a potential plot).

[previous chapter]

I love your feedbacks and comments so much, thank you. reblogs help a lot as well <3

The stars looked like pin pricks against a dark sheet, so bright you had to squint to make sense of your surroundings, but there was nothing to make sense of. Just black asphalt laid out like a red carpet.

Your body ached and groaned as you stretched ever so slightly, and Frank pretended not to notice the way you winced when you pulled your shirt from your dried wound.

He cleared his throat, trying to distract you. “Mornin’.”

“Mornin’,” you yawned, checking the dashboard.

1:42am.

The last time you stopped was somewhere in Ohio at a run down 7-Eleven. Amy threatened to jump out of the van if she didn’t get a slurpee, but you couldn’t really blame her, it did sound good, so Frank was outnumbered like he usually was.

That was hours ago, though, and you found Amy curled against the duffle bags with a ring of blue food dye around her lips.

“How far are we?” You prodded.

“Few hours.”

“Oh.”

Frank was a man of few words when he first met you. It took him three days just to ask you for an extra blanket when he met you at that motel in Nebraska, though he chalked it up to his unnatural ability for needing something. Didn’t wanna bother you.

You were patient with him, never pressing him about the occasional bruise or poorly hidden glances, instead choosing to talk about how vending machine chips are basically just bags full of air and how mattress stores are money laundering operations—he laughed at that, fully and with his chest, and it was game over for you both.

Yet somehow you were sitting within a foot of each other and felt like strangers.

“Do you want me to drive?” You offered, daring to look at him. He looked worn, his eyes drooping with sleep.

“No,” he answered too quickly. “I’m okay.”

“Maybe we should stop somewhere?”

He was silent, unwilling to admit defeat. Stoic. Stubborn. A pain in the ass that kept you awake with a fevering bullet shaped gash in your side.

You would make yourself power through the pain if it meant he would be normal again—if he would even look at you for more than a second and without what you perceived as disdain. You would pretend that each day you had Amy didn’t feel like salt being shoved into your sister-sized wound. You would lie through your teeth and tell him that you were capable of keeping up, that this life was enough for you. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.

“We’ll stop at the next motel.” He looked over at you, his eyes trailing towards the rust colored stain on your shirt. Your cheeks burned underneath his gaze, and all you could do was nod in reply and watch the constellations blur.

“Wake up.” A breathy voice tickled your ear, causing you to jolt upright in your seat.

“Damn it!” You cursed before placing a palm against your sternum, ignoring the way the seatbelt burned against your exposed neck.

Amy was pleased by your reaction, carelessly falling back into her designated makeshift seat of a jacket tucked against the back of your chair. Frank didn’t crack a smile.

“Knock it off,” he warned, his eyes quickly darting towards the backseat.

“Oh come on,” Amy whined. “It was funny.”

“I actually disagree,” you chimed in, your heartbeat still racing.

“You’re no fun.” She pouted, slouching against the hard interior.

Frank would disagree, though. You were fun. Charismatic. Lighthearted.

He missed that version; the one where you existed alongside of him with ease, the one where you convinced him that joy existed and was accessible to people like him, to people like the both of you.

It felt foreign to him, the easiness of it all, but he gave up rejecting his need for self denial when he met you. Because you were fun.

“We’re stopping soon,” he cleared his throat and those distant memories of you, and you nodded with a “k.”

“I have to pee,” Amy broke her secret vow of silence, probably just to hear herself speak.

“Hold it,” you and Frank spoke in unison, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You often wondered what he was like as a dad. If he was the silent and stern parent, always fussing with light fixtures and the underside of a truck. Maybe the kind that cared a lot about grades but even more about after school sports or school projects. Really, you think, he’s the kind of parent that just enjoys his children’s joy, never getting in the way of what was causing it— a winning soccer match, a new video game, a carousel. It didn’t matter anymore, anyways, and you were too scared to ask him about it.

So you didn’t, and you don’t. You never do, because you’re not really sure what you would say if he ever asked about your sister. Some things are better to be speculatory, you decided, until Amy came along.

She acted like a secret maneuver that would draw back the curtain on what Frank Castle was like as a father, and you seldom looked away.

“Sheesh,” she muttered, and you hid a smirk behind the palm of your hand.

It was silent for the next few miles, save the occasional clanging of weapons every time the van fell victim to a pothole. It was silent even as Frank drove past the first motel. Then the second one… and the third.

Amy eventually caught on, sitting on her knees and looking out the window like a dog with its ears flapping in the wind.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Frank was quiet, eyes still straight ahead, even as he pulled into the parking lot of a neon green Holiday Inn.

“A hotel!” Amy squealed, throwing herself in Frank’s general direction, ignorant to the way the car swerved due to her affections.

He watched you from above Amy’s head, thankful she was blocking the smirk on his face as your brows furrowed in his direction, silently asking are you sure?

He was sure. He had made up his mind hundreds of miles ago when he first saw the blood soaked cotton of your shirt, but he wouldn’t dare to tell you.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Amy let out a sigh of relief, loud enough that it was dramatic even for her.

Frank was silent as he dug around in a back pocket before handing you a thick wad of cash. You failed to meet his eye as you accepted the offering, opting to nod with a tight lipped smile as a thank you.

“Get the biggest bed you can get!” Amy called out to you before the door swung shut in her face.

She pulled herself into the passenger seat and sat back with a huff and a genuine smile on her face. Finally, she thought.

Frank’s eyes were trained on the entrance of the hotel. He watched you pull your jacket across your body, attempting to hide your ghastly appearance, as you leaned against the counter. The woman at the front seemed reasonable, he assumed. You both smiled at one another, so things must be okay.

“Frank,” Amy attempted to disrupt his attention

“Not now.”

She watched the way he studied you, almost disgusted by the way he withheld his care and affection from you.

“Frank,” she tried again.

“What?” He snapped, finally meeting her gaze.

“You really need to fix whatever this,” she pointed a finger from his chest to the hotel lobby, “is. It’s a little ridiculous.”

“There’s nothing to fix.” He straightened ever so slightly.

“Bullshit.”

He was thankful she dropped the conversation when she did. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to admit there was a palpable tension, he just didn’t know how to fix it. He thought the hotel would be evident enough that he was sorry, but you pulled the door open a little too roughly for that to be the case.

“Here,” you handed him a rectangular card.

“Two keys?” Amy asked.

“That’s for your room. I got my own.”

“What?!” She scoffed and Frank clenched his jaw. “Are you serious?”

“I’m right next door.” You began to unload the van, carefully slinging a heavy bag around your good side. You tried your best to hide your inconspicuous smile, but it was harder the more you thought about the king sized bed assigned to you.

Amy and Frank trodden heavily behind you as you made your way through the empty lobby and towards the elevators, not without waving towards the kind faced woman at the front desk.

“You’re actually leaving me alone with him?“

“You'll be fine, Amy.” You rested your head against the back of the elevator wall, closing your eyes in surrender as the metal doors slid together.

“That’s not fair,” she whined; you half expected her to start stomping her feet.

“Life ain’t fair,” Frank finished the argument as the elevator came to a bumpy halt. You barely opened your eyes to glance at him, surprised at the way he nods, as if giving you permission to be alone.

You aren’t sure why you became shy and why your cheeks warmed. Maybe it was the way his eyes had softened ever so slightly, or maybe it was the gratification of him acknowledging you made a sound decision for once—that you were capable, even after your extreme fuck up just hours earlier. Either way, the softness lingered as you found your rooms.

The cool air hit Frank’s face as a pleasant surprise, though the cleanliness, the luxury, felt burdensome.

“You have to apologize.” Amy claimed her bed, minding the way her sneakers dirtied the white sheets.

“Yeah?” He huffed, remembering he should be offended by your lack of appreciation for the new scenery. “For what exactly?”

“You’re being a dick!” She exclaimed, slapping her hands against her crossed legs. “I’m serious, Frank. It’s my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault,” he sighed.

“Okay, great, then stop blaming her for it.”

“I’m not.”

“Sure.”

The hum of the air conditioning filled the room as Frank stood awkwardly, thrumming his fingers along his thigh while Amy pretended not to notice.

“‘I shouldn’t have left you alone, okay?” He leaned against an empty dresser, still unwilling to find comfort in the queen-sized mattress.

“She did what you couldn’t do,” Amy mumbled and he grit his jaw in response. “I was the one that called for pizza, okay? I wasn’t thinking. It was on me and I’m still alive, so go say you’re sorry.”

Being still was a foreign concept for Frank. He was constantly moving, hard wired for productivity and precision, scoffing at the mere idea of rest. His neurons exploded even in his sleep, unable to ignore the zap zap zap that kept him moving, kept him alert, kept him alive. It kept you alive.

He ran through the numerous possibilities and outcomes of apologizing to you in his overtired head, filtering through his own remorse and your indignation.

Fuck it, he decided, ending his marathon around the room.

“Don't call anyone. Don’t move from this bed. Don’t answer the phone and don’t answer the goddamn door,” he placed his hands on his hips, emphasizing his seriousness. “Understand?”

“Roger that.” Amy saluted him as he neared the door, unable to hide her smile. “Use protection!”

Just as his hand reached the handle, he paused. “What did you just say?” She audibly laughed at the mixture of disgust and genuine shock plastered against his face.

“Go kiss and make up!” She shooed him away, and she swore she saw him smile before he disappeared.

The bathroom mirror shook in a steady succession following the slams of heavy doors. It was constant, and you almost considered complaining before remembering that this was a luxury compared to your previous hideaways.

It wasn’t always so bad, though. Before Amy, it was exciting— like a cheap thrill that you hadn’t felt since you were 16, sneaking out of a bedroom window and choking down a stale cloud of smoke. There was a monumental lack of pessimism between you and Frank; he brought life back into you, and for once you didn’t feel guilty for living.

So you accepted the cheap motels and fried foods, never minding the greasy-lipped kisses. You welcomed the sun beaming on your bare feet when they laid across the dash as you drove nowhere. You loved the way your stomach felt full as you drank a beer, pretending you weren’t hiccuping while Frank sunk an 8 ball in a top right pocket. You loved the nights spent in a dirty dive bar where you didn’t have to think about who the fuck you were for at least a few hours. You loved it, and then he told you to run before bullets started flying.

The knock on the door was so faint you almost missed it over the sound of your cursing.

It was him—you knew it was him. He had an aura so thick it bled through walls.

“Y’gonna open the door?”

No.

Maybe.

The door opened with a metallic click, though you didn’t care to hold it open. He shoved himself inside, feeling like an intruder.

You studied your irritated wound in the mirror, continuing your attempts at cleaning and suturing it. The sting of the alcohol wipes hardly compared to the pair of eyes transfixed on the evidence of your failures.

“You okay?” What a stupid question.

“Fine.” What a stupid question.

Fine. It wasn’t a complete lie, though you avoided meeting his gaze at all costs. He could see right through you, hell, he could feel the resentment radiating off of you.

You didn’t have to distract yourself from the emotional distance; your attention was spent on unwrapping the much too small steri strip from its packaging to notice the way he awkwardly balanced his weight.

“Shit,” you cursed as the first suture folded over on itself.

“Do you need—“

“I got it.”

You really tried, but it was impossible to see the wound over the mound of your breast, and you could hardly twist your waist enough to get a decent angle. You decided to go in blind, completely embarrassed but unwilling to admit defeat.

The sticky strip landed incorrectly, directly atop of the ragged flesh, and you yelped as it adjusted.

“Let me get that,” he didn’t wait for your protest before inviting himself into the small bathroom.

“It’s fine, I got it,” your fingers shook as you attempted to pry the suture from your skin, salty tears splashing towards the floor.

You dropped your hand against your hip and audibly exhaled as he assessed the wound. He was hardly offended that you refused to look at him. Truth be told, he could hardly look at you without having his whole chest be filled with the weight of his own shortcomings.

He hated when you cried, especially at his own doing. You could blame it on that searing pain of torn flesh instead of the heavy burden of disappointing him, so you did. You pretended that the only pain you felt was the physical kind as you stood in front of him, half naked and bleeding, as he sat on the lip of the bathtub.

In any other situation you would have taken advantage of this position, cupping the back of his neck before sliding between his legs, waiting for him to pull you into his lap. But it’s different now, and you almost flinch as his calloused fingertips carefully brush your skin.

“You ready?” He asked, waiting for your permission before hurting you all over again.

You nod while stare at the ceiling, counting the porous tiles, bracing yourself for what is to come.

He tried to get the stitches and bandages ready as quickly as possible, prepping them on his knee as he gave the countdown. “One, two, three...”

“God damnit!”

The world became nothing but splotchy stars and radio static as your flesh ripped apart all over again, and you bit down on your knuckle, focusing on that dull ache that took your attention away from the way Frank was piecing you together again.

“I’m sorry.” He sounded muffled, his silhouette splotchy, but he held you together with nothing but cheap butterfly sutures and a half assed apology.

“I know,” was all you could muster out, breathing in that last bite of fight you had in you.

“Y’gonna stop poutin’ then?”

You jerked away from him, your nostrils flaring as you looked over his bent frame before turning on your heel, leaving him in that makeshift emergency room.

He almost regretted saying it, almost, but there was nothing worse for a man than putting himself out there and being disregarded, so he sat there, counting the bloody wash cloths and discarded bandages until he felt that familiar sense of carnal responsibility.

You were changing when he finally came about, his imaginary tail tucked between his legs. It felt wrong to look at you, to see the way your bare back curved and folded before disappearing beneath an oversized shirt—his oversized shirt.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you before, with your body on full display as he appreciated every inch with a soft brush of his lips. He had seen you, tasted you, held you, but this time it was different.

“Look,” he cleared his throat to signal his presence. “I’m sorry.”

“You done?” You ignored him as you pulled the starchy sheets back, but he wrapped a hand around your wrist, forcing you to look at him.

“Hey,” his eyes softened and voice dropped. “I mean it.”

There was an invisible argument happening as you both held onto the white sheet. You knew. He knew. Someone had to give in. Someone had to break first. Someone had to bare their soul and damnit were you tired of pretending.

“Well it don’t feel like it.” You gave in, and for a minute, you sounded as tired as you felt.

He ran a hand over his face with a sigh and you took the opportunity to sit on the first clean mattress you’d seen in months before bracing yourself against the sturdy headboard.

“Sometimes,” his hand twitched at his side as he contemplated his next sentence, “I look at her and all I see is my Lisa.” Your eyes shot towards his face at the mention of his daughter, and it was hard to ignore the painful knot in your stomach. “It’s like I’m losing her all over again and I—“

“Frank,” you leaned towards him, and the mattress sunk next to your feet.

“I just can’t do it again, y’know?” He looked at you, tears brimming on the waterline but never daring to spill. “I can’t do it again.”

“You won’t. You won’t do it again.”

You said it as if you were a god, fully capable of aligning the stars and galaxies and writing history. You said it as if you were able to predict the future—a future where Amy was safe in an undisclosed location and you and Frank were, well, somewhere.

He huffed at that, and rightfully so, though you tried to convince him anyways.

“I’m sorry,” you attempted to shift the blame, “I didn’t know that she ordered food, I should have paid attention. I should have known better, I should have—”

“Hey, hey, hey” he placed a hand on your leg. “Quit it.”

“I’m sorry, Frank. I didn’t mean to mess up.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry, I tried,” you could feel the uncomfortable knot lodged in your throat but you couldn’t push it down. “I swear I tried.”

It was embarrassing the way the hot tears left patterns against your white cotton shirt as they fell. You weren’t really sure why you were crying or who you were crying for. Amy was still alive and tucked into a bed just behind another door, but your sister was somewhere else entirely.

“It’s not your fault,” Frank attempted to intervene, gently scooping you into his side. You let him, though not without feeling so incredibly selfish. He rubbed your arm, in a steady motion, squeezing lightly for his own emotional support. “I’m sorry for taking it out on you. I shouldn’t have left you guys alone. You shouldn’t have had to clean up my mess, okay?”

You nod into his chest, wishing his words didn’t feel like a cheaply made sympathy card.

“None of this is on you, you understand? You didn’t do anything wrong.” He placed a kiss against your temple, and you folded into him even more.

He somehow reached across space and time to tell you the words you wished you had heard that night: you didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is on you. Frank had become a god, transcending the laws of physics to piece you together with sutures and sympathies.

It was quiet for a while save for the muffled lull of the obnoxiously cold air conditioning. You missed this—the feeling that life could go on, that you were enough for him, that the silence didn’t signal an impending doom.

“Stay,” you whispered.

“Hm?”

It was silent as you considered your next move—play dumb or give in, going belly up for a few more minutes of playing pretend.

“Can you stay?”

It was silent for another minute, but his breathing shifted and you held your breath.

“Sweetheart,”

“I know. I know she’s next door,” you tried to make his decision easier. “Can you just stay until I fall asleep?”

“Sure.”

It was less than convincing, but he kissed your neck before sliding himself down the mattress and pulling your body into his stomach.

You curled into yourself, hugging a pillow against your face before deciding it was too soft. This, you and Frank, felt too soft after a week of sleeping in different beds and communicating through glances and strategies to stay alive—to keep Amy alive. It was different. Too soft and still not enough.

He felt the emotional shift as your body tensed, snaking an arm beneath the crook of your neck before reaching for your empty hand. You followed directions without a second thought, intertwining fingers and limbs with a relaxed sigh before your world went dark.

He stayed, like he said he would, watching the numbers on the clock face ascend.

It was unfair to you, he thought, that he was splitting his attention between you and a young girl he barely knew. It was unfair that he had to uncurl himself from your body and walk next door to a bed that would be too cold, too empty, too soft and pretend that he didn’t just abandon you. It was unfair that he brought you along to something he wasn’t sure how to finish.

The bed dipped as he forced himself away from your warmth. He held his breath, silently praying you wouldn’t notice his absence. You looked calm for the first time in a long time, since before you both became honorary foster parents and ran from men that looked like they were on a pilgrimage. You looked so calm, and he tucked his invisible tail between his legs again while pressing a kiss to your shoulder, letting out a final sigh of resignation before disappearing behind a closed door.

You were too tired to move. Too tired to leave that spot that still smelled like him if you closed your eyes and inhaled. You knew he was leaving, only pretending as a courtesy to his feelings, though you couldn’t help but wish the metallic click of the door was a gun aimed directly at your chest.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle hurt/comfort #frank castle angst #frank castle slow burn #frank castle series #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher x female reader #the punisher angst #the punisher hurt/comfort

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tearingskies · 11 months

Text

some things you just can’t speak about

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Ginny in the aftermath of the War.

TW: mentions of death & implied torture

Note: This is my first (finished) fic! It was written over the course of one year and sat in my drafts for ages before I finally got the sudden urge to just post it and be done with it. Hope you enjoy!

Ginny sits in the crowded Great Hall and feels utterly alone.

There’s a dull hum that hangs in the air, a combination of melancholic murmurs and quiet, tear-streaked condolences. Ginny’s numb, sitting on a bench with a half-empty tea mug going cold in her hands. Her clothes are covered in blood, ash and Merlin knows what else and she thinks her arm might be bleeding. But none of that matters, because she’s still sitting there.

Her mind is struggling to make sense of her surroundings. Of the pale hand peeping from beneath a sheet nearby, the red splashes that dot the dated stones, and the muted cries echoing in the vast empty spaces left by those who have moved beyond this world. Everything feels hollow and out of place.

There are some things in life that can’t be comprehended before they have happened. And even when they do, they are senseless and wrong.

Death is one of those things.

Someone speaks up near Ginny in a hushed tone. She grips the cold mug in her hand and keeps staring at the pale brown hand that can’t touch anything anymore. It’s stained pink by dried blood.

Ginny wonders who it is – if she’s passed them by in the hallways, what kind of a life they lived. The hand looks too delicate, too young to be so still. They were once someone’s child, someone’s everything. Now there’s just cold flesh and a still heart.

A gentle pressure on her shoulder breaks Ginny’s thoughts right as someone pulls the sheet down to cover the lifeless arm. Her eyes stray towards the grieving face of her mother, who clutches her shoulder tightly, as if to make sure she’s still there, breathing.

“Let’s go get some sleep, Ginny, dear.”

Ginny blinks up at her.

Her name sounds strange, like a foreign word spoken for the first time. She feels like an outsider in her own body.

“I’m not tired.” Even though she is. She’s so tired she doesn’t know how she managed to say those three words. But the thought of closing her eyes makes her feel sick. She doesn’t want to face the imagery her cruel mind will create from heartache and fear. Being awake in this reality is already a nightmare.

Her mother’s lips purse and tears start glistening in her red-rimmed eyes. “We’re all going to go together—“

“I’d like to stay for a bit,” Ginny says because she doesn’t know if she’d even be able to move. She doesn’t want anyone to know how broken she feels, doesn’t want them to see the constellations of scars stitched on her skin. Doesn’t have the strength for the questions and tears they’ll inflict. There's already enough pain without hers added to it.

“No, we have to—“

This time it’s not her that interrupts the sharpening tone. “I’ll stay with her.”

Ginny doesn’t have the energy to look at him, which is a small mercy since she thinks she might truly break if she did.

He sounds as exhausted as she feels. Ginny wonders when was the last time he felt safe enough to sleep through the night. It’s been ten months since she did.

Distantly she can hear her mother attending to him, hugging him tight in sobs of relief. She feels so far away.

“-and you’ll come with us, of course! Minerva has arranged a chamber for the family,” Molly goes on. Ginny can feel the emotion radiating from him at the inclusion, and she wonders if he’ll ever feel like he’s a member of the Weasley clan. He’s been her parents' seventh son since the moment he stepped foot in the Burrow that very first time. He’s been her…something for a long time now.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, really, but I’ll stay with Ginny for a while.” His voice is firmer, more insistent this time and she thinks he might fight her mother for it. But there’s no need because he’s Harry. She envies him for that sometimes.

Molly is quiet for a breath, and there’s a low murmur that might’ve been Ron. He’d understand, Ginny thinks. Out of everyone in her family, Ron might get it – her pure exhaustion and the importance of this moment between her and him.

“Alright, then,” her mother says, and that’s that. Her brothers file out, Percy walking an ash-drawn and glass-eyed George towards the doors of the Great Hall. He’s clutching a watch in his hands, knuckles white and face empty, like he’s withdrawn from this world that couldn’t possibly keep on going without his other half.

Bill’s hand squeezes Ginny’s arm as he and Fleur pass her, their hands entangled tightly together. Her father leads her mother out after them, calming down her protests with whispered words and a gentle arm around her.

Ginny watches them go, wondering if they’ll ever be the same again. She knows the answer, but it hurts to even think of it. They’re all broken, and they’ll all heal differently. But they will never be the same as before, nothing will. And that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Through her peripheral vision, she sees Ron pat Harry’s shoulder and throw a concerned look toward her as he and Hermione follow the family out, fingers interlocked in quiet comfort.

Then it’s just them in a hall full of people mourning. Ginny feels his gaze on her. It’s raw, the way he looks at her like there’s nothing he expects from her but herself. She wants to look at him more than anything in the world.

He walks forward, evading the white sheets that cover patches of the floor. She keeps looking at nothing. He sits down next to her, an arm’s width away but closer than ever.

Harry moves his hand and envelopes her free one with it, lodging their fingers together. Ginny stops breathing because his skin feels warm and real, and maybe this isn’t just a fever dream after all. Her heart cracks, the pieces correcting themselves to fit together again, like breaking a bone that’s healed incorrectly. She releases a shaky breath and clenches her hand, getting a press of his thumb against her skin in return.

They sit like that, side to side with their hands interlocked. Ginny doesn’t know if it’s minutes or hours or days that go by in the comfort of his presence, the utter lack of expectations that hangs between them. He doesn’t try to talk, neither does she, and perhaps he’s just as exhausted as she is. But they’re just there, quietly existing in each other’s space. They don’t need words in this moment. The silence is enough.

Ginny thinks of the things she wants to say, can’t say, and needs to say. I’m not okay. I’m broken and I don’t know how to stitch myself back together. I love you. She squeezes her eyes shut.

They have days, months, years to talk.

Or maybe they never will. Maybe there will never be a time for them. She doesn’t know, but she hopes they’ll get there. Someday, somehow, when everything doesn’t hurt as much as it does in this moment.

For now, Harry’s thumb smooths over the jagged scar on the back of her hand that wasn’t there all those months ago. Ginny leans against his shoulder and listens to the beat of his heart.

Harry's alive, and Tom is not.

And she’s breathing, too, even if it takes everything to do so.

There are just some things she can’t say yet, if ever. War rattles people, and even if she’ll never be fine, she will still live for the ones who can’t, no matter what it takes.

I’m glad you’re here, she thinks because his presence speaks multitudes.

#hinny #hinny fanfic #ginny weasley #harry potter #tea writes #missing moment #first finished fic #i hope it's not bad lol #also still don't know how to work tags

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vanoincidence · 2 months

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Not So Peppy || Van & Jade

TIMING: directly after this. LOCATION: sly slice. PARTIES: @highoctanegem & @vanoincidence SUMMARY: jade goes to look for van after she runs away from regan's apartment. CONTENT: implied domestic abuse.

Jade totally underestimated just how fast Van’s little legs were and how far they could carry her. (She probably played sports growing up, right?) Even as she sprinted out of Regan’s (or Van’s, at this point) apartment chasing after her, Jade was unable to spot any trace of her anywhere in the surrounding area. So weird. What was up with that? Wait… What if Van melted herself into another puddle and just… flowed to her next destination? That would be a pretty cool superpower to have, actually. A little awkward, sure, but totally useful. Lots of savings in gas.

And yup, she was still thinking about the melting mess. How could she not? Jade’s heart was pounding hard, and it had nothing to do with the short race to catch up to her friend. (She was in better shape than that, come on). Nope, it had everything to do with the fact that Van could melt things (wow). She could melt chairs, and… what else, actually? Without Regan’s terrible influence on her brain cells, Jade could like, put things together a lot easier. Van was no banshee. Or fae, obviously. She had magic. (Duh!) Magic she didn’t have under control. How did that even… Was it triggered similarly to Regan’s glass shattering? UGH. Not only did Jade need to find Van to check on her injuries and the general vibes after, well, everything, but also she definitely had to ask all the questions running through her head.

Unfortunately, her search around the neighborhood turned up with zero results, like, not even one suspicious looking puddle in the vicinity, so Jade decided to try her luck elsewhere. As promised, she shot Regan a quick text, letting her know she was taking her bike and heading to Sly Slice. (Plus a crying cat emoji) (Plus a heart). If Van wasn’t at Sly Slice then… fine, maybe it was better to give the girl some space. She hated that, but whatever. Maybe some people actually enjoyed being alone with their thoughts and feelings. (She couldn’t relate).

Van was at Sly Slice.

(Wasn’t it great when things worked out?)

Jade didn’t even have to look for her, noticing her as soon as she stopped her motorcycle outside the back of the store. There was Van, by herself. Well, and her pizza (hopefully pepperoni, so she would share). Jade kept it cool, though. Took her sweet time parking and removing her helmet like this was another day at the office, and she was definitely not here to check on Van. Aloofness worked with youngins, right? Probably better than sitting did. Van wasn’t a cat like Regan, or not a full one at least. She was a lot more like a mouse (which, um… maybe not the time for that comparison, but alas). The point was, Jade didn’t wanna make the wrong move or sound and potentially set off her nerves again. She flashed a friendly smile at the girl, working out the vibes. “Is this… a sitting situation? Would you like me to?” Jade really hoped not cause she didn’t wanna get her pants dirty. But for Van? She’d make the sacrifice.

“I’m sorry Regan yelled at you…Totally out of line. She won’t do that again” Jade looked serious, her voice was steady as she made the promise. She had no idea if Regan intended to ever do that again (common sense said, no freaking way) but this wasn’t about Regan, this was about Jade making sure it never happened again. Whatever measures were needed. (Just like she wished any of her siblings had taken for her) (Not that… she thought about that a lot or anything).

She approached slowly, examining their surroundings for any other signs of puddles, and when she didn’t find any (or nothing fresh, at least), Jade stood by Van’s side, shoulder to shoulder with her friend. Lowkey? Eyeing the pizza. But she also noticed her cheek looked cleaner, her hands too. A bathroom stop probably. It didn’t matter, it just made Jade feel a lot better. Physically, Van was fine, it was just a matter of dealing with those pesky feelings. She wrapped an arm around the girl, giving her shoulder a tiny squeeze. She huffed out a laugh, suddenly reminded of her sister (Ruby). So averse to physical touch in any capacity, especially as comfort, but somehow being the first to rise whenever Jade woke up from a nightmare. Just to hold her. She should Facetime her today, Jade decided, uncomfortable with the mix of feelings stirring in her belly.

“So,” Jade smacked her lips, 'cause there was no point beating around the bush. “Magic, huh? Kind of a plot twist. But totally cool with me, in case you were wondering”

—

It didn’t take very long for everything to come crashing down. One moment, Van was watching Regan in disbelief over the mention of her mouse, and the next, the artificial blonde was standing over her, eyes growing black and telling her to control it. Had she known that it was Van that was doing that to her? Was that why? How expensive could the table have been? There were a dozen questions that ran through Van’s mind as she made her grand escape– none of which would ever be answered, because she figured that Regan would never want to see her again.

The topic of Jade came to mind as she remembered the way she had made joking jabs towards the two of them on Van’s way out. Had she been hurt? Did the glass catch her? She looked down at her own hands as she rushed down the street, eager to ease the sting from the cuts the lightbulb had made. She couldn’t go home, not when it still felt wrong. Stepping foot through that door would open something inside of her that she couldn’t handle, at least not today.

She considered going to Nora’s crypt, or Cass’s cave, but she didn’t want to bother her friends with her issues. They would probably be upset with her for even thinking that, but she couldn’t help it– it was second nature to her, thinking that others would be better off without her. It was pathetic, too, and she knew she needed to get over herself.

However, the one place she figured wouldn��t reject her was Sly Slice. She could lie and say she had arrived for her shift early, even if she didn’t work today. Immediately after entering the establishment, she rushed to the bathroom to clean some of the blood stains off of her hands. There weren’t many, but the soap stung her skin as she let the cold water run over her minimal wounds. She stared at herself in the mirror for a long while, eyeliner and mascara somehow holding up despite the hot tears that spilled down her cheeks. She looked even more pathetic than she felt, which really, she wasn’t sure how it was possible.

Taking her time in leaving the bathroom, Van finally found the courage to at least eat something. It’d be more suspicious if she sat in the deep freezer and cried– so instead, she bought herself a large pepperoni pizza and took it out back, taking a seat on the plastic stools that had cigarette butts littering the ground around it.

She was focused on a small weed that’d somehow managed to withstand the cold weather when she heard the bike, and the smell of the exhaust– and then, Jade. Van looked up at the woman, gaze immediately searching her for any substantial injuries, but she made no move to get up. She looked like she was fine, so that was good at least.

Jade’s arm around her felt like lead, like she might sink beneath the wait of it and dissolve into nothing due to the pressure. Instead of recoiling from it, she stayed put. What would it tell the older woman if she shrunk down? “I didn’t know if it would be.” She wiped some of the oil from the pizza off of her chin with the back of her hand and stared down at the glossy finish of the pepperoni. “I was scared, and I should have– I told… Regan knew, because I can’t keep my mouth shut, and I should have just told you, but I didn’t know how.” Van had lost too much to her magic already, she couldn’t risk losing Jade. Regan already had one foot out the door, so in some form of reality, she’d already lost her. “How do you know that it’s real? That it wasn’t like, some trick? Why are you not scared?” The questions came out in a whisper and she cleared her throat, the oil of the pizza making it hard to talk.

—

Van didn’t flinch from the touch, but she also didn’t like, actively leaned into it. But it wasn’t an offense, Jade could totally deal with that. Again, she understood not everyone was a ‘clingy little pest’ like Jasper always called her. (Lovingly) (Sorta). But Van wasn’t any of the Bloodworth siblings, raised to struggle with displays of affection. This was not that. Van was hurt, and very recently under distress, and she was probably carrying a truckload of guilt about the whole situation. So Jade understood. Case in point, the way the young girl explained why she hadn’t been able to reveal her powers before. Which like, that was totally a personal thing anyway? And sure, she’ll be the first to admit knowing was always the preferred alternative cause she was nosy like that, but… “That’s totally fair, it’s like… a spooky secret to have. Especially if you can’t control it,” Jade nodded, giving her a comforting side glance.

“You know how… the first night we met I literally followed you to get a metal-eating rat out of this kitchen?” She nodded her head toward the building. (And…it was better if she didn’t think about whether they had solved the rat problem or not). “And then I totally stayed like the good citizen I am to clean up the mess” The teasing smile spread all too quickly across her face, unable to keep together to land the joke with a deadpan. It didn’t help that Van looked ready to argue, but Jade continued. “I think that’s pretty much how it’s always gonna go between you and me. No matter whatever chaos goes down in the kitchen of life. I’m always gonna stick around to get rid of the rats.” Eyes narrowed, she twisted her body fully towards Van. “It’s a metaphor. I’m trying to sound more mature. Adults use metaphors, right?” She couldn’t simply be the girl with the best fashion advice, and the most iconic media takes, she had to like…be better at life. For Van. (Ugh. Was this how Regan felt when she sat on the floor?) (Was she doing her own version of the sitting? No way, she was like, totally in touch with youths).

Jade fixed Van with a look that clearly translated to ‘please’ when the girl suggested it could’ve all been a trick. She was pretty sure not even the big movie studios were doing stuff like that. The way Van whispered her questions totally pulled at her heartstrings, though. She had to flaunt some of that disarming confidence, she was scared of nothing. But it didn’t feel like the time for that. Van gained nothing by Jade boasting about her ego. It felt like the time for real talk. “I’ve just… seen a lotta things in my life, you know? Like… Most of the things we only see in movies and stuff.” It wasn’t the point now, but once she made sure Van was alright, and the whole stress of melting Regan’s apartment disappeared, Jade should definitely tell her about the vampire slaying of it all. “It would take a lot to shake me,” and that wasn’t cockiness, it was the truth. Cause she was tough. “I’m like, only scared of planes,” cause even cargo pants were a thing of the past. “They can’t fool me with that jello thing!”

Jade moved her hand away from Van’s shoulder, pinching a slice of her pizza. “I have to say, I haven’t met lots of spellcasters, though. How does that happen?”

—

Van longed to find comfort in Jade’s words– to allow them to envelop her and shield her from all of the terrible things she’d ever done, or that might happen, but it wasn’t that easy. The people who spoke like this, they always found a reason to leave– a reason to grow distant. She had decided to stop begging the moment that her mom told her that she talked too much, that she needed to learn when to keep quiet so that she didn’t say things that didn’t matter, or that might hurt somebody’s feelings. Van still talked a lot, but she stumbled over her words more often than not, and she was worried that if she opened up to Jade now, she might do just that. She might reveal things about herself that she wasn’t ready to speak out into the open.

She stared at the pizza, willing to find her reflection in the glossy oil. It was easier to focus on something that couldn’t be done, anyway.

“I think boomers use metaphors.” She sniffled lightly. Van knew that Jade was being honest– could almost feel it, even though the anxiety funneled through her like a silent storm. “You didn’t even help me, you went and made a delivery.” The comment came out in a whine as she finally looked over at her company, eyes so watery that she could barely make out the details of Jade’s features. “What if the rats are too big?” She was using metaphors now, and it wouldn’t be the last time. “What if the rats eat away at everything and make sure there’s nothing left.” Her voice broke slightly at the question and she shook her head.

Jade’s articulation and consideration should have put Van at ease– the way that her reassurance spilled into the space between them should have offered Van some kind of clearance to divulge exactly what happened with Diana, Debbie, and the man in the ice cream shop, but she couldn’t seem to find the words. Instead, she listened to Jade as she explained that there were things she’d seen that could be equated to something horrific. “But what if you say that, not knowing about what else is out there?” She bit the inside of her cheek, watching as Jade plucked a slice of pizza. She didn’t even have it in her to call her out.

“Well obviously not,” Van hiccuped, “the ground isn’t jell-o, so we’d die if a plane went down.” It was said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it were the only thing that Van could argue in the moment. Silence split between them for a moment, but Jade was asking another question, and she couldn’t help but answer. “It’s always been like this– I’ve always been like this.” She sniffled again, rubbing her sleeve against her cheek, careful not to let the box of pizza slide from her lap. “It feels so stupid– it’s been with me for so long and I don’t know how to do anything with it. I… thought it was just bad luck for a long time, wanted it to be bad luck, but now…” She shrugged, gaze growing distant as she traced the outlines of the cardboard on the box with her eyes, following the grease imprints left behind when the box had been rattled in her haste to get outside. “I don’t know, Jade. Everyone in my family is gone, so I don’t know. What if I was adopted or something?” She didn’t think that was true– she’d seen photos of her in her mother’s arms in the delivery room, but what if that was some other baby? “What if I was swapped at birth or something?”

She knew that she should be asking about Regan, but she was too afraid to say her name.

Oh. “Ew,” Jade made a disgruntled sound, learning she was displaying boomer behaviors and acting in boomer ways. Whatever, she was not one to cringe over anything, she wasn’t about to start now. She strategically ignored Van pointing out that she didn’t stay to clean the kitchen, (cause… there were two sides to every story, right?) and focused instead on what mattered: Rat metaphors. “I don’t care about the rats,” she scoffed (Sorry Regan). And fine, she did care about the rats. Like the real ones, in the sense that they made her a little uncomfy, so much so that she actually preferred the dead ones too. But metaphorical rats were like, a walk in the park. “As long as there’s enough of you left, I’ll stay” She pointed at Van’s heart with a limp slice of pizza. Then proceeded to bring it to her mouth.

Yuck. (She took another bite).

“I was raised knowing a lot of supernatural thingies existed,” she explained, once she swallowed. “It’s cray. I know not everyone can accept it does exist, but I’ve seen lots. I’ve fought lots too,” probably not as much as her siblings, (never as much as them, that was the problem, right?) but enough to be super confident about this convo. “I can now add puddles of chairs to the list. It’s like, my own personal Pokedex”. She looked at Van, wondering how much she knew. If she even believed in the supernatural. Cause being part of it wasn’t a guarantee that you vibed with it. (Just look at Regan) (She did. She always did).

“Mhmm, yup. Same brain,” Jade shuddered, thinking of all those turbulence TikToks. Van was crying a little harder now, opening up about what it felt for her to carry this gift. (Was it so bad to be special?), Jade grabbed one of Van’s napkins, the one with the least amount of grease stains, and folded it into pieces with her free hand, until the small surface was completely clean. She reached for Van’s face dabbing the tears. Jade couldn’t relate to the whole not knowing what to do with your special juice, (cause she did pick up things at a quick pace) but the whole being behind compared to everybody else cause your training was a little deficient? Yup, that kinda hurt a little. But while in her case it was totally her fault (cause she was born too late), it wasn’t the case for Van. “It’s not stupid to feel things. Maybe the rest of the situation is frustrating, but not the feeling. Being left to your own devices sucks.” Her gaze, which had been firmly on Van’s face the entire time darted to her bike.

“What if you’re the Milkman’s daughter?” she fake gasped, following Van’s intriguing possibilities. “Wait, so not helping,” she amended quickly, with an apologetic glance. She couldn’t help it sometimes (most of the time). Chewing on the rest of her slice, Jade contemplated Van’s situation. Maybe there were people out there interested in training adorable baby spellcasters, right? That looked like a lot of power contained in one tiny girl. Maybe she’d ask Emilio if he knew any, since he had so many friends. “Alright, that was me just being nosy, we don’t have to talk about your origin story until you wanna. Maybe it comes up in a special episode” she assured the girl, wiping her fingers on the napkin.

It obviously sounded, though, like that this incident wasn’t entirely new in Van’s life. And she made sure to sound concerned enough when she asked her next question. “Has that happened a lot? You melting things?”

Van wanted so desperately to believe what Jade had to say. She needed to, for her own sanity– especially after what had just happened inside of Regan’s apartment. It was hard to believe it, especially after the way the bleach blonde had yelled at her, but it was impossible to downplay the look in her eye, the way that it all seemed so real.

As Jade continued, Van was resigned to the fact that she, too, was just one of those supernatural thingies. How much did Jade know? The last Van had asked Regan, she didn’t know about the wings, but it’d been implied that she knew other things. Jade had said it herself– something about duty, which Van didn’t totally understand. “Why are you talking about me like I’m a pokemon?” She would’ve been delighted if this were any other situation. She would have boasted about how she felt close to Cubone, but now wasn’t the time to bring her dead mom into things. Besides, there was nothing left behind from her to protect her against the things that went bump in the night. She hadn’t gotten very lucky, all things considered. Unless her magic counted, but she doubted it.

It was getting harder to feel as though falling apart weren’t necessary. It felt it– like it was the only way to truly feel everything all at once. She’d gotten so good at putting it all off, but when her emotions ran rampant, or when fear burrowed itself into her, bad things happened. She didn’t want bad things to happen anymore. Not in this way, not with Jade, and not with Regan. Not with anyone. Van leaned into Jade’s touch slightly, closing her eyes which only sent more tears spilling. They were warm and sticky and the smell of pizza grease would stay with her until she could go home and wash her face. Though, did she even really have a home anymore? What would Thea do if she went back to the apartment and didn’t see her? Would she just leave, too? Her mind wandered, but she was brought back as Jade joked about the milkman.

A soft, half-sob, half-whine erupted from her chest as she considered the idea. “Do you think that’s why I’m lactose intolerant? Is this the way of them smiting my mom or something?” She couldn’t imagine her dad not being her dad, but she did look a lot more like her mom. She hiccuped, slumping into Jade’s side slightly. She stared down at her pizza slice, no longer hungry for the distraction and pain it’d bring later in the form of phlegm and bloating. “I don’t know my origin story, Jade. It’s not like I’m actually Cassandra Cain.” Was this a way of deflecting? She didn’t know. Would Jade even get the reference? Van also didn’t know. She took another bite of her pizza, mouth half full as she answered Jade’s next question. “Always. Like, always-always.” And somehow, it was always tables. How did that work? She didn’t know. “My tires, the table– not just Re–” She choked on the name, swallowing her bite of pizza down.

“She hates me, doesn’t she?” She’d seen it in the woman’s eyes– the way she’d created a monster out of her. Control it, Regan’s voice echoed in her head like the stupid DVD logo on a television that’d fallen asleep. “I didn’t mean to break her things.”

“Well, you kinda are, right? Adorable, emotional, very powerful, you got your weaknesses too…” Jade made the point to glance down at the box of pizza. Yup. That one was gonna hurt later. Van leaning into her felt like a victory. Not just cause, it was so hard it was for people in Wicked’s Rest to allow themselves to be cared for, but mostly the Van of it all. She could’ve run again, or melted into a puddle herself or… but she was still here, with Jade. That meant something, right? At least it did to her.

Van was super concerned about the milkman situation, (though it felt a bit like deflection). Jade giggled, willing to entertain it for a moment. “Nope. It doesn’t work like that, but I’m not the science gal. Unless… milkmen everywhere were getting super busy cause like, that stuff is all around us.” She figured she could count herself lucky, that she didn’t have that kinda tummy issue yet. Jade was tempted to take the pizza away from Van, though. She might thank her later. But also, if this was how she coped, then she wasn’t gonna stop her.

“Bat… girl? Is she the gay one?” But like, didn’t most of them give extreme gay vibes anyway? It probably didn’t matter. “You’re gonna have to teach me more of that comic book stuff,” that way she’d be able to relate a lot more easily to other young people. Or even people her age. Elias probably liked comic books too. But again, this felt like another attempt and switching the conversation. Which, Jade was fine with, don’t trust her to steer an emotional conversation.

Van was eventually done with milkman conspiracies and gay superheroes, slumping against her again while admitting the (literal) meltdowns were a recurring thing. “Okay…that’s okay,” and technically, she didn’t know if it was okay that Van melted things when upset, but Jade brought a hand around her back and rubbed gently. Van could cry and eat her pizza, just not… both of them simultaneously, that was like, such a bad idea. “She doesn’t hate you,” she shook her head, thinking back of how guilty Regan looked right after scaring Van away. Nope that wasn’t someone who had hate in her heart. Besides, “I’m like, positive hate is beneath her… duty. Too strong of an emotion, you see,” other than Rickers’ beard, she figured. “Plus, my phone has been vibrating non-stop, I know it’s her with her double texting. I know, so unlike her, right?” she clicked her tongue, searching for Van’s gaze.

“She doesn’t care about the apartment, remember? She’s said it like, so many times” Jade pointed out, in case Van needed a reminder. She probably did cause, who thought clearly when they were upset? “I’m sure she’s worried she messed up with you, and embarrassed too, for saying the things she did. She’s probably thinking she should’ve checked your hands… you know, doctor brain,” she looked at Van’s palms, not only clean (save for the greasy pizza), but with no deep cut. Nothing that wouldn’t heal in a day or two. Even if it might sting a bit. “It’ll be alright, you have my word. She won’t leave without fixing this”. It was totally a new entry in her bucket list.

Van hiccuped, a slice of the pepperoni falling from her slice of pizza onto a neighboring cigarette butt. Disappointment rose in her as she watched it glisten beneath the waning sun. “I feel like that pepperoni a lot of the time. I don’t know about the powerful part.” She knew that she was– knew that if she didn’t get her shit together, more bad things would happen. After all, the portals that’d risen from asphalt and ground alike wasn’t something a non-powerful person could do. She wasn’t ready to get into those details yet, not with the Regan of it all. Maybe later.

She scrunched her nose at Jade’s comment about the milkman, shaking her head. She knew that she was trying to make a joke out of something serious– they both were, and Van couldn’t really blame her. Hadn’t she been the one to sort of start it, anyway?

“That’s Batwoman.” Van’s opinion on Cassandra Cain being bisexual didn’t matter here, she didn’t think. It’d only move them further from the topic at hand, and for once, Van wasn’t trying to run away from it. Not after Jade had offered her a shoulder to lean on and a listening ear. Van wanted to respect the older woman and not diminish this moment, no matter how badly she just wanted to evaporate into thin air. “I can… and you can probably like, learn from Cass, too. She’s really smart about comic stuff.” Did Jade know Cass? If Jade stuck around long enough, Van would make sure to introduce them. “She’s one of my best friends. She likes comics.” She sniffled again, gaze locked on the fallen pepperoni.

Finally, Van lifted her gaze to meet Jade’s. She willed herself to believe the woman in front of her, because if she didn’t, then what would happen? Who would she be without that support? Van bit the inside of her cheek, giving Jade a small nod. “I don’t know what opening up dead people has to do with like, not hating people, but…” Maybe it was a religious thing? Though, she didn’t coin Regan for being super religious. Was it Catholic guilt or something? “She looked at me like she hated me. Her eyes turned black, and I think that I did that. I’ve…” Van took a deep breath, rubbing away another stray tear, “I’ve done things like that before– like, darkness and stuff, seen it swallow people up.” Twice, now.

She matched Jade’s gaze, looking down at her hands. She flexed her fingers around the slice of pizza she still held in her hand, grease oozing onto the pads of her index finger. “People leave all the time without fixing things, though.” But again, Van wanted to trust Jade that this would be fixed. While Van knew she deserved little respect from either of them, she so desperately wanted it anyway. “I don’t know how to say I’m sorry, not in a way that might make her listen to me…” Another bite of the pizza, and Van plopped it back down into the box, careful not to touch any of the other slices in case Jade wanted another one. “And if she’s just going to leave, anyway, how can I be sure she actually is okay?”

Jade squeezed Van’s shoulder, as she commiserated with the slice of pepperoni that fell on the floor. She wondered if Katy Perry could’ve made a hit out of it too. But right, they were focusing on something else at the moment. She hummed, making a mental note that Batwoman was the gay one and she should totally look into it, then shelved it right next to the earworm she was obsessed with at the moment. That Ethel Cain x Robyn mashup. She figured the theme of gayness was pretty overcompassing for all topics. “I love Cass! She helped me pick a goodbye ring for Regan,” Wicked’s Rest was really that small town, wasn’t it? The one from TV shows. Sometimes it felt like no over 70 people lived in it.

Oh. So Van still didn’t know about Regan’s duty. Noted. Jade was glad she’d kept it vague enough to just nod along while Van spoke. That was also not something she should meddle in. As much as like, she would just love for people to let fly their freak flag high or whatever Lady Gaga said. (Was she mixing up references? Huh…) Van! Yup, better pay attention to Van, cause if she held onto a thread in her head, she’d be daydreaming forever. “No way she hates you,” Jade repeated confidently, but took a beat to consider the girl’s words. “The eyes were spooky, though… She was back to normal when you left but. I’ll have to ask her what’s up with that.” Why did Van think she was responsible for it? It’s not like she melted her pupils or something. And Regan had her own set of abilities. She opened her mouth to ask for Van to elaborate, but got sidetracked with the rest of the conversation.

“Well, I don’t think you should apologize first” Was that petty of her? Like, okay…the melted chairs were not a good look, especially if you were into sitting like Regan was these days. But the yelling felt like the bigger offender. For sure. Maybe it was Jade’s own biased opinion cause no one ever apologized for the nasty words aimed at her. Van didn’t deserve that. And she knew Regan knew that too. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. When she feels less guilty” on cue, her phone vibrated again, without a doubt another round of texts from Regan. “And if you feel like saying sorry after you two talk, then… I guess that’s fine too,” what was that called again? Accountability or something. And actually, could they rewind a little bit to the previous point? Jade’s eyebrows pinched together. “What did you mean… you saw darkness swallow people up?” all of those words together made sense. Except, how exactly?

The goodbye of it all made Van feel smaller. Maybe after Regan was gone, Jade would replace her with Cass. Cass was cool, and she knew more about comics, anyway. Jade would probably learn a lot more about Batwoman from her. Van was only just dipping her toe into the batfam verse. Her mind wandered and she desperately tried to reel herself in. There was no point in catastrophizing something that probably wouldn’t happen, was there? Even after Regan left, Jade would be by her side, just as she was now. It wasn’t like the faux blonde was the one keeping their friendship intact… right?

“They were back to normal?” Van’s tone edged on hopefulness, void of the earlier anxiety. So Regan hadn’t fallen into some pit after both she and Jade had left. That was good, at least. She bit the inside of her cheek, mulling over Jade’s words. “You don’t… think so?” That was confusing to Van. She’d always been told when and how to apologize– to her teachers, to the grocery store clerk, to her grandmother. She was taught that apologies were the things that mattered most, and that she should always give them, even if she wasn’t the one who’d done something wrong. If that weren’t the case, then she’d learned wrong.

“Okay.” Van felt small again, thinking about what she might say to Regan, and how she’d afford new chairs. She’d been saving money on things like electricity and wifi since moving into Regan’s apartment, so maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad. She could probably find something in the town’s marketplace, she was sure of it. “I’ll try not to say sorry right away if you don’t think I should.” Maybe taking Jade’s advice here was the smarter option. Maybe Jade knew what she was talking about.

At her next question, though, Van took a deep breath. Why couldn’t she just shut up? Sometimes she spoke too much for her own good. “Like… things happen, portals open. There’s a dark hole, it swallows something– somebody whole. I thought that might happen to Regan. I got scared.” She was surely revealing too much, but it was too late to backtrack now. She owed Jade honesty, didn’t she? “I don’t know what it is, before you ask. It just… it’s happened, and it exists in me.” She shrugged simply, scraping a piece of congealed cheese off of the box’s side. “I’m still trying to figure that part out.” The tears had stopped for the most part which she was grateful for and the anxiety that buzzed in her head had quieted down some, which considering the topic of conversation, that was surprising in itself.

“Yup!” Jade popped that ‘p’ sound dramatically, as a way to cheer Van up. Had she seriously believed this was all her fault? Talk about a chip on her shoulder. No wonder she was torturing herself with pepperoni pizza from literally the worst pizza place in town. On that note, Jade grabbed stole slice, telling herself that she was technically helping Van by eating her food. (Duh!) She was in service of the community after all. “Back to the same pale blue we all love. You know, not the scary looking one, like Miley Cyrus,” she let out a dreamy sigh, thinking of Regan’s eyes. They were literally the only valid blue eyes in the world, in her opinion. Wait, Van was talking. Focus. “Nuh-uh. I know she’s gonna apologize, she’s really good at it,” Jade nodded firmly, “like, alright sure, you should apologize for the chairs after. But no one should ever yell at you the way Regan did. That’s worse than melted chairs.” Jade looked away, focusing on her bike and not the on-rush of memories reminding her of the times she might have been in Van’s shoes. (Hypothetically). Um, anyway.

Luckily Van seemed convinced by her flawless logic. Jade nodded encouragingly. Chairs could always be replaced anyway. In fact, “maybe we can steal some stools from here!” she pointed behind them, a conspiratory smile spreading on her face. Like, they could always claim someone came in and just, took them. It was way tamer than some of the stuff that went down at Sly Slice. But something told her Van would be a little scared of the idea. “Or! We can go buy some too, that works. My point is… All of that is easily replaceable, you’re not,” Jade offered a comforting smile, then proceeded to stuff her face with the rest of her pizza slice. It was a little salty. She wondered if Van’s tears were responsible for that.

Jade was thankful she’d finished swallowing her food, cause Van was opening up like, for realsies now and it was starting to sound… a little concerning. Not the craziest story Jade had ever heard by any chance, but it definitely gave her a pause, as she tried letting Van finish talking before interrupting. (And please, no jokes) (She could so do this, she could have an adult conversation). “Huh…” Jade blinked, understanding now that Van’s magic was not a ‘teehee I melt things’ type of deal. So it really could’ve been like, super bad. Like Regan could’ve been gone even before Ireland bad. And yeeted (yote) to an even scarier place. (One with no sheep, she guessed). “Where um… you don’t know where these people go, do you? When they get swallowed…” her eyebrows knitted in concern, making some assumptions. She shook her head, not the time to be nosy. “Look, it doesn’t matter, babe. You have no control over this, but you will… this stuff always starts like that. You just need your training montage and you’ll be fine, you’ll be so good. This town is probably like, the best place to learn.”

“People with blue eyes always want you to know that they have them…” Van stared off into the distance, thinking of the very reference that Jade had brought up. She felt like if she’d tried to explain the origin of the meme to Regan, there’d be no progress. At least Jade had some sense to her. Van hadn’t gotten a lot of apologies in her lifetime– though, that was relatively short in the grand scheme of things. She wasn’t used to people trying to right their wrongs with her, and the idea that Regan might apologize for yelling at her filled her with both hope and dread. It was a confusing mixture, and one that she didn’t want to focus on too much for the sake of moving forward in this conversation. “People yell all the time, especially at me.” She shrugged, stating it as the most simple thing in the world. “It happens.” There’d be no stopping it, really. People would continue to yell, and that was just how life was. Even if Regan yelling at her did hurt more than the average person yelling at her.

Van looked behind her towards the door that led back into the kitchen of the restaurant. “I think Rocky would like, definitely notice.” Janice wasn’t there to rat her out anymore, but that didn’t mean somebody else wouldn’t.

All of that is easily replaceable, you’re not.

She could have cried harder at the comment, but she didn’t. Instead, she nodded. A far away expression peeled over her features as she settled on Jade’s words. If they were being said, then they were true, right? Van cleared her throat. “I’m sure… we’ll find something. People move all the time and need to get rid of things.” Maybe she’d take Thea to a yard sale later to try and find something that’d fit the table’s vibe. Maybe Thea was better at it than her. It occurred to her then that she’d need to explain why the chairs had melted. As the anxiety bloomed over her in preparation, she did her best to push it away. Now was not the time to focus on somebody else either being afraid of her or being angry at her for doing such a thing. She thought Thea really liked those chairs.

“No, I don’t.” Van’s voice hardened as she tried to parse out any judgment that might be lingering in Jade’s tone. It was absent, though, which made her relax slightly. “It’s going to be a whole like, Aang discovering he has to save the world thing, only not as cool.” She nearly went into the details of how she’d be fine with not getting the girl if it meant Zutara could be canon in some capacity, but she wasn’t sure if Jade would even know what the hell she was talking about. “I don’t want to be dangerous anymore.” She sniffled lightly, rubbing her sleeve under her nose. “I… know that Regan is right– I do need to control it, I just… don’t know where to start.” She leaned away from Jade and sighed, brushing her hair out of her eyes with her non-greasy hand. “I’m sorry for all of… that, this…” She looked over at the older woman with a frown. “You don’t think I’m going to hurt you too, do you?”

Huh. Van was totally right about blue-eyed people. Maybe that was what Jade found so attractive about Regan’s. She’d never once flaunted the color of her eyes. Never gave her an eerie stare, not even back when she was supposed to be the harbinger of death. They were so nice and shiny (shinier every day) and sometimes they looked at Jade like… like maybe she wasn’t hard to love after all. Like maybe she could be easy, even. And that felt super nice. It was the best part of being seen by Regan, actually. (But Regan’s eyes and the rest of her weren’t gonna stay with her for much longer. Ireland was still happening) (So maybe she should start fearing blue eyes again).

“No one should be doing that, people are so freaking rude”. Her forehead wrinkled and her stomach filled with something nasty as Van claimed people yelled at her all the time. Jade passed it off as having sympathy for Van’s struggles. (Right?) Cause she did feel for the girl. Maybe a little too much, enough to feel like threatening violence, for example. She wouldn’t though. Cause she was the adult in this and all. “You’ll tell me next time someone yells at you,” Jade all but demanded, then amended her words in a beat, much gentler. “I’m not like, gonna embarrass you or anything… I just wanna know. Or, if you ever wanna tell me all about those dumb people, I’m all ears. You should tell me whatever you feel like, whenever you feel like” she suggested, a small smile smoothing out her sharp edges.

Van was right. Rocky would notice, he was like… a hawk or something. But the sentiment was what mattered, here. She would steal stools for Van. (The smuggling them bit might be harder. Cause she didn’t think they would fit in her motorcycle). But it seemed like Van got the meaning behind her words, cause her eyes looked shiny again, holding back tears. She wasn’t full-on crying, though. She was touched, and Jade squeezed her shoulder tighter, comforting her. “Yup, I bet some weirdo on the internet is ready to get rid of some furniture. All we gotta do is look”.

Jade didn’t know who Aang was, specifically. Her anime culture was seriously lacking (even if Jasper had tried), but she had totally seen a meme or two of that show on Twitter (not X). Plus, that whole korrasami situation, right? Yup, at least from a distance, Jade rooted for them and all the people they pissed off. Wait, where were they? Oh, right. Van didn’t want to be dangerous anymore. She glanced at the girl, wishing she knew about magic instead of vampires for once. She would’ve taken her under her wing so fast. She did know a thing or two about control though. She didn’t like thinking about those days, but there was a reason she knew like, every breathing technique under the sun. “Maybe we can work on the… non-magical bits for now. Like, when you feel nervous and things like that,” she didn’t wait for Van to agree or not, she was only planting the seed in case she was ever interested. They weren’t gonna solve every problem in one evening.

Similar to Regan, Van looked soggy with guilt even after being reassured. Her girls were just so tenderhearted, weren’t they? Jade hummed in disagreement. “Oh, you don’t have to apologize to me either,” she scoffed. That was even weirder. Regan did it too. Apologizing all too quickly. (What do you mean people were capable of accountability? Just… that easily?) (It sounded so fake). Her question, on the other hand, was pretty valid. A piece of glass cut through her clothes when the bulb exploded. She had been bleeding on the way to Sly Slice. But it would take a lot more than that to send Jade running the other way. Her brother’s words once again echoed in her head. (Diamonds shatter, jade sings). “Not even a little. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed… but I don’t like doing a whole lot of thinking,” besides, she was too important for the plot to be swallowed up by one of those portals. She had people to kiss and vampires to slay.

She let a moment of silence pass between the two (torture), watching Van process everything she’d been through. She looked drained, and definitely gave ‘pepperoni on the ground’ vibes now. A heaviness set in Jade’s chest too, but why dwell on that? “Do you want a drink? I can go get us something… The pizza is super salty.”

It hadn’t occurred to Van that maybe the people yelling at her were the ones in the wrong. Regan wasn’t an example of this, obviously– no matter what Jade said about what had happened, Van still felt like she’d deserved the frustration that’d come from the older woman. She had melted a chair! Had almost hurt Jade and the mice! It made sense that Regan would be upset with her, even if it did hurt, and even if Van did think that the bleach blonde would hate her for like, ever.

But still, it felt nice to have somebody in her corner. Van nodded at Jade’s insistence, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Things had gotten to be so different. Between Jade and Nora, she was sure that she’d be defended from pretty much anything, even if Van was the most dangerous part of the equation (what with the portal opening and all). “Okay, I’ll… I’ll try that, Jade.” The least she could do was try, right? That was what was important here? Not turning her back on the opportunity, but instead attempting to do something out of her comfort zone? The example in this situation was just letting somebody care about her enough to defend her. “I think I can do that.”

It really stuck with Van that despite what Jade had seen her do (magic lite, all things considered), she was still offering to be by her side. “My old therapist taught me some things and like, it helped for awhile, but… things have just gotten super weird and it’s getting harder, you know?” She was sure that Jade would understand what she meant, even if at its most basic level. The whole Regan leaving thing was included in that, after all. “I still feel like I should, though. I could have hurt you.” Van didn’t want to keep this up– she would have preferred her magic leave her once and for all, but it really didn’t seem like that would be happening. “Thinking is like, super overrated, but I think too much. Maybe you can teach me how not to think or something instead of how not to be nervous.” It was said with a soft laugh as she looked down at the non-descript pizza box. No mention of Sly Slice, anywhere. How was Rocky supposed to market the shop?

At Jade’s question, Van let out a sigh, reaching up to rub at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I think a fizzy lime soda would be really nice right now.” She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself because how much longer would people put up with it? It was pathetic. She looked over at Jade and got to her feet. “I think we should both go. If I stay back here much longer I’m going to totally cry some more, and that won’t like, help anyone I don’t think.” After a brief pause, she tugged on Jade’s sleeve, balancing the pizza box in her opposite hand. “Thank you, for coming to find me. For not forgetting me or running away.” Even if they could’ve come across as lighthearted, the words held a weight that made Van immediately uncomfortable and she cleared her throat, kicking some dirt over the fallen pepperoni. “Fizzy lime time, Jade.”

#para: not so peppy #para: jade #wickedswriting #domestic abuse tw #// love jade and mary sm...

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masuchist · 3 years

Text

TOUCH IT, MY TAIL 01

Genshin Impact . . Aether, Albedo, Bennett, Chongyun, Tartaglia, Diluc Ragnvindr

Good girls get rewards.

fem reader, yandere, dubious content, collars, spanking, erotic humiliation, begging, heat cycles, size differences, overstimulation, dacryphilia, implied machine fucking

Aether, and the Support Puppy.

─ This new world that they’ve transported to is certainly interesting to say the least. Who knew there were all sorts of hybrids in Teyvat, unique and intriguing in their own ways, his golden hawk eyes lay upon someone: a little lonesome puppy. His team is in need of more members, and he decides you’ll do fine even without a vision. Unfortunate. For you that is, your role in this flourishing party is a mere placeholder, a meat shield, bait. With no experience in cooking, healing, or combat, you’ll sit on your fluffy tail patiently waiting for them to finish their business. It’s the least you can offer: to not be a bother. You don’t seem to mind however, oblivious to their silly shenanigans.

─ His teammates often wonder what was the point of bringing deadweight to the team. You don’t do anything but yap their ears off about some random subject they could care less about, smiling bitterly in response. What was Aether planning? Seriously. But he reckons quite fondly that would never be the case. You’re the life of the party, a breath of fresh air.. you’re his pretty pet! That expensive collar adorned around your neck is proof enough, costs him two glistening crowns and mountains of mora, further putting pressure on them for thinking about their teammate this way. How could they be so cruel? It’s not like you’re holding them back from their goal. They should not use petty excuses for their dislike towards you.

─ Being a proclaimed hero is exhausting, sucks the energy right out of him. Sometimes he just wants to let go of these burdensome tasks, enjoy a day or two without responsibilities, and spend time with you at his own pace. His sister can afford to wait a little longer. Aether knows the journey to reuniting with Lumine will take a while, if not a couple of dreadful months. Maybe she’d grow fond of you too when the chance arrives. They have the same taste in darlings, they’re twins after all. But as of now, you’ll be jubilant at his side like the good pet he’s conditioned you to be overtime. And no one will ever take you away from him.

01. Submission

“Who’s my pretty baby?”

His gloved fingers are clutched under your chin, prompting you to look at him as he coos a little too sweetly for someone’s taste. Enviously long blonde eyelashes fluttering in the night, a stark contrast from the everlasting dark surrounding Mondstadt. It’s just the two of you around a temporary campfire that crackles life, the rest finding solace in a small tavern nearby.

Aether seemed insistent that a humble tent would be a more fitting option for tonight. A sense of privacy and space from everyone, a time where star-crossed lovers can rewind and distress in each other’s loving embrace. Who were you to disagree? His youthful appearance is a faux. He knows a lot better than most, knowledge and age preceding hundreds of years, but they don’t want to believe that. They think he is simply a reckless teenager with no clear understanding for this world, indulging in ignorance. Although there are some instances that has them questioning these biased impressions.

After all, no being can be this skilled at everything.

“I.. I am,” you whisper, unsure.

Is this the right answer?

You don’t want to accidentally say the wrong thing. You don’t want to disappoint him at all. You want love talk. You want praise, fake and all.

You want him to feel vehemently proud of you, but for what exactly?

His teammates were right. What can you do, for him?

He smiles sweetly. A little too sweet as he bends down slightly to press a doting kiss onto the temple of your forehead earning a small whine. Adorable little thing you are, still aren’t confident even when being smothered in his slobbering affection from head-to-toe. That wasn’t his intention, the quite opposite of it, actually. But since you’ve always been so obedient for him, then there is no issue. In fact, this part of you is endearing. So endearing that he has an overwhelming urge to bully you into tears.

“Open your mouth, puppy.” An eager finger prods against your lips despite him asking, no demanding, and you do.

He takes advantage the moment your mouth opens ajar, stuffing it with two large fingers. Drool starts pooling, slipping uncontrollably down your lips. You can’t keep it from slobbering all over him and it makes you want to dig up a hole and die out of embarrassment.

You don’t, regrettably, enduring the shame as long as it pleases Aether.

The coarse leather of his glove rub against your pink tongue as he swirls his digits around it, feeling the warmth prickling through the material. You staring up at him with the most innocent, glistering eyes he’s ever discovered - never losing the spark.

“You’ve been such a good girl lately,” his free hand slowly trails down to the hems of your shorts, “I think.. it’s about time I reward you properly.”

Albedo, and the Curious Cat.

─ Your very existence is already curious enough. There is no doubt that you are still human, that part he can tell. But more observations calls when he realizes the similarities you have to a domesticated kitty cat. Your ears are not only an accessory, he notes: they cave in to the slightest touch of his warm hands, purring contently to yourself. And your lively tail: highly sensitive, even grazing it slightly makes you jump in fright. How interesting. How intriguing. He plans to conduct experiments with you for the rest of his life, not that you’d catch on or take the time to care. Not if every need and want is being provided for you.

─ You are painfully unaware of these guinea pig intentions, too busy enjoying the time of your life being lavished in affection because no one has ever showed you this much love. Spoiled you are. Refusing everyone’s kindness but his. The favoritism is apparent and he loves the bias that flows madly in your blood. It tells him that you love him without the telling. It shows him that you still care for him despite not admitting, this is all he could really ask from you which is not much.

─ Another thing he adores is your blossoming curiosity. It can kill the cat, but there is no need to be frightened over everything. Isn’t that why Albedo is here? To help you on your endeavors in learning about our constantly changing world, to keep you grounded and loose at the same time - thinking you are free when you are not. An illusion if you will. This is for your sake because a cat cares about their sense of solitude and he’s not going to correct that thinking. You will find out soon enough who holds the real power. You can leave anytime you want. The doors are open. The opportunity is always there. No matter the decision, you will find yourself at his front porch, ashamed and understandably abashed.

The outside world is not meant for a lonely little cat.

02. Fascination

It was your mistake to ask an innocent question.

Hey Albedo, you say this out of nowhere, all curled up happily in his lap purring to yourself as he has his hands busied with a book containing theories, inquiries, and speculation, what is over-stimulation?

Your curiosity is sudden, but forever encouraged. Where could you have possibly heard of this, he ponders. Was it when he left you alone with that cavalry captain? Or was it that librarian.. Hanging around an indubitably bad influence is not something he’d wanted, but it happened.

Whether the case may be, he’s happy to answer.

Although, why bother explaining when he can thoroughly show you, body and mind? People learn best through experience. After one or two loving sessions, you’ll be a veteran on this subject in later time. That is why you are currently strapped to a table with your legs spread wide open for easy access to everything, unable to cope with the all-too overbearing stimulation going on in your fluttering cunt - squirming, trying to break through these iron restraints because it is simply too much for you.

A dubious machine that he’s spent the time building for weeks on end is finally completed. A curious cat has bugged him enough, wondering what this weird invention’s purpose was. His reply was curt and cold, “You’ll see.”

And see you did.

Now, it is propped right in front of the table, two foreign bodies invading the two of your most sensitive spots, the reason why you were an unraveled mess. Tears, snot, sweat streams fervently down your ruined face and onto your swollen lips, attempting to swallow down these moans.

“N-No - nyah ! No... no more, I’ll, I’ll die -”

Your toes curl up again, nearing your fifth orgasm as your body trembled sharply. Breathing heavily, wanting to catch a break but being unable to. The machinery is merciless - Albedo is, refusing to turn off or at least turn down the setting to a more appropriate speed.

He licks his lips.

Pen tucked in his meticulous fingers as he documents what is being displayed, palming the growing bulge through his shorts.

“The human body is durable. You can handle it a couple more times, I know you can.”

Bennett, and Bunny.

─ You are the first individual to willingly tag along his unfortunate-packed adventures, the second official member of the Bennett Adventure Guild! A sweet blessing brought down to earth, one who doesn’t see his bad luck as a bother, or at least not all of him. He might’ve mistaken you for an angel if it weren’t for the floppy ears and cotton ball tail, although that doesn’t count - you’re practically everything to him now. You’re more knowledgeable in cooking and medicine and he’s more versed in the scavenging and battling, doesn’t that make a wonderful team?

─ On the flip side, you are much more timid than he expected. He guesses it must be the nature of a rabbit, and that is no issue. In fact, that trait makes you even more precious to protect in his curious eyes. He swears it! You give him another meaning in life, another reason to fight back the cruel rumors surrounding him like a stubborn curse, which is unmistakably true. Someday, sometime, Bennett will find a cure to be rid of this stupid misfortune, settling down in a humble little village with you right after. What a dream. Still a bit faraway from now, but nowhere near impossible. He’s sure of it.

─ Evidently touchy. Uncomfortably so. Doesn’t help that you are already shy enough, cowering anytime he makes skin contact. Disappointing to say the least. Nevertheless, with time and a bit of exposure, eventually someone like you can get used to this treatment. A protective arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to showcase the passionate love between unyielding lovers; aggressive kisses that leave one breathless and desperate for air; everything affectionate. Bennett is all about showing appreciation through skinship, wanting to know more of both you and your body intimately.

03. Desire

“Um, B-Bennett..? Say.. Ah... do you need something?”

His gaze darkens to an emerald gem that lost its shine, void of its innocence, hungry for another’s purity - and you’re the willing target. Face flushed, shutting your eyes tight feeling those gloved and surprisingly experienced fingers, tracing the silver necklace he’s gifted you around your petite neck.

The bedazzle brings out a certain brightness in you, one that cannot be dampened.

Your face heats up because not only was he touching you shamelessly, but his other sneaky hand cups the right cheek of your ass, giving it a firm squeeze as if to let those behind you know that you are off-limits. Bennett knows travelers too well. They want you. They want to taint you, to corrupt you from the inside and out - like him.

Why else would they bother staring at you in silence?

You’re flustered.

He was always like this. Wanting to keep a hand or more on you, wanting to feel your smooth skin against him. If it were behind close doors - in the privacy of a secluded home, then this wouldn’t be so strange. In fact, you’ll be eager to.

But you’re not.

You’re sharing a fancy dinner at a local tavern, in a public environment. People can clearly see and hear the heated exchange going; customers lightly chattering amongst each other, the fireplace flickering, and low moans. Does Bennett not care about being discreet, or does he want them to know what he does to you?

“Nothing... You’re just really, really pretty.”

He leans a lot closer, too much for comfort. A short gasp leaves your lips. You already know that look in his eyes. Teeth nipping the outer shell of your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

He wants you.

Chongyun, and the Lost Puppy.

─ Cute... beyond cute. That you are, born in the land of declared freedom and finding yourself stranded all the way down South in prosperous Liyue. How bad were you with directions to end up here out of all places? Not that he minds, you would’ve never met him otherwise. Presenting himself as a lonesome exorcist from the mountains, on a journey to find purpose, and peace wherever in Teyvat. You’re enlightened! Where you came from, not much spirits haunt the villages, or anywhere to tell the truth. It is not a wonder that this young man seems interesting, wanting to tag along on his so-called trip to self-discovery, curious to how the process works.

Well, if you insist. Come along now, he isn’t waiting forever.

─ Still, your energy is tiresome. Reminds him of the theatrics Hu Tao pulls off in her free time.. minus the mischief, and Chongyun knows you truly mean well despite everything that conspires. He loves you, but goodness, you make him want to tear his hair out constantly. Anger shouldn’t exist within him. It’s risky in plenty of ways. Maybe you’re just playing around (with a dangerous game) like any other playful puppy. Perhaps you need someone else who’s equally as exuberant to calm down. He keeps telling himself this in order to not snap, and here you are baiting him with those long eyelashes.

─ Then again, you’re clueless on this issue. He’s never properly warned you about his... unique condition. He didn’t feel the need to, not if it never happens. Chongyun tried his best to avoid such situation once you came along. Taking extra caution in eating extra cold food, passing you onto a trusty friend, Xingqiu, in case he feels a sense of danger ahead. Everything seemed to be going well which should’ve been a major red flag. As they say, communication is the key to a long healthy, prosperous relationship.

04. Danger

"No... [Name], you need to leave - right now.” Breath labored, Chongyun uses the remaining energy coursing through his body to shake you off.

“B-But.. But, I don’t want to!”

You yammer. Being told to stray after from who was essentially your owner hurts, causes your tail to lower in shame, ears drooping but you stand your ground despite his command. Determination pulsates in your veins, a trait he’d come to love as much as he openly hates.

“Last...”

His head hurts.

“... Chance,” he’s sneering, trying to scare you away as a last attempt.

Please... Leave.

It’s a solid warning. For your sake, your safety - he fears what will happen if his vision fades into darkness. He is a force to be reckoned with for he cannot be controlled whenever positive cognition takes effect. There is no time to inform you; there is no time for you to stand there helplessly like an idiot - praying, as if it’ll get anywhere. Even if there are archons, it hardly matters. They won’t bother answering, not when this situation could’ve been avoided.

“I’m… No, I can’t! I’m not leaving you!”

Before it’s too-

Everything is starting to get hazy.

Late.

His eyes flutter open, slowly but surely and you’ve never been so relieved for him to wake up. You were so, so scared. If he didn’t respond then you wouldn’t have known what to do. Find help, call desperately for a passerby, hope for the best. There’s only so much a pet can do, and that makes you realize what little contribution you were in his world.

“... Yun!”

He’s quiet. Too quiet.

“Yun...?”

Something is off.

“[Name].. I’m so happy you’re here!”

That tone in his voice, that dark flicker in his eyes; this wasn’t him. Who is this, you’re intimidated by the sudden glee and change in personality, scrambling backwards with your hands, bottom and feet but you don’t make it that far, this is not Chongyun. Or at least the part you weren’t familiar with.

The ends of his mouth breach for a wicked grin, inching closer, no room for you to scamper away.

“Eh?” He tilts his head, “Why are you moving away?”

He is at fault,

but you’ll pay anyways.

Tartaglia, and the Lured Cat.

─ He’s stumbled upon you on his daily excursions, during work, chilling outside on the porch purring underneath the shade. Your pale grey ears catch his attention, and the harbringer can’t help asking if he can pet them. He’s off-duty! Why? Well the real question has to be why not. Hybrids aren’t too common in Snezhnaya. Some live among Liyue, coexisting with their human compatriots in peace. Although he hasn’t found the time to properly interact with one, you’re here now to make his day - and possibly his entire life if you keep being so adorable for him.

Is that even possible?

─ This obsession starts small. He comes to visit your home at least once a week, bringing you small trinkets he’s collected during work, and the occasional gigantic fish for your family to prepare - ‘taming’ you on the long run. They are quite fond of your new friend, always inviting him in for a bit of his time. The stories, the gifts, the company; they love him. So much, that when Tartaglia ask for your hand in marriage out of nowhere - your mother gleefully cheers while your father tuts, but cumbersomely accepts. You do not have a say. He doesn’t provide an opening, throwing all sorts of reassuring statements and claims that he will take really good care of you.

To them you are regarded as his soon-to-be wife. And to him, you will be treated as a domesticated animal.

─ Being greeted by his humongous home that towers you and an attentive staff was the last thing on your mind. You knew he had some sort of power, money, but this was just far too much. Laying down the ground rules, giving a light tour around the house, he doesn’t have too many. Only that you’ll remain here never to be seen in the sunlight, and to refer to him as master. Rubs his ego for the wrong ways. Although isn’t this a fair trade, you have everything and anything at the tip of your fingers for a small price of abandoning your pride.

He may love, cherish, spoil you, but do not forget.

You are very much still a pet.

05. Heat

“I... I, master ! I need to cum. Please, please !” You are riding rampantly on his thigh, whining and moaning with each buckle of the hips trying to chase your high. There’s a burning sensation towards your lower region, a sensation you’re trying to get rid of so desperately, but no amount of grinding can dissolve this… this frustrating feeling. To be teased to the edge and not be granted the sweet release of pleasure is torturing.

You need more.

He smirks coquettishly at this pathetic performance. Who knew that a heat cycle affected you this much? Your family never mention this... not that he’s complaining. This just makes you all the more ravishing, seeing you so needy, so vulnerable for him makes his dick throb.

But no, there has to be some self-control. You must show him how badly you want him before he’ll lift a finger.

“My thigh is all yours, lovergirl.”

Tartaglia chimes, reveling in your dilemma.

“B-But, need more... your - nngh!” His leg suddenly bounces up, causing you to yelp, sharp nails digging into his shoulder.

“Cum on me first, and then I’ll take care of everything.”

Diluc Ragnvindr, and the Abandoned Rabbit.

─ You wouldn’t have been here if he hadn’t found you hidden away in the bushes: terrified, injured, and abandoned by the one who swore to protect you from everything. The first few weeks were a pain. You’d want nothing to do with him, or his staff, refusing to come out from under his bed until dawn. Peeking your head to see if anyone was near, slowly picking at the cold vegetables left in a bowl before crawling back under once the door creaks open. He’s forced to be patient. Rabbits must assume everyone is an enemy in order to survive in the wild woods, he does not take much offense as one would expect - to say that he is not peeved however is a little lie.

─ For the next two weeks he lets you seek shelter in his master bedroom, leaving some food and giving a few words of encouragement that’ll hopefully make you comfortable here. “I’m not going to hurt you.” “Eat.” “Get some rest.” The staff wonder why their young master has bothered to take in some stray being. He leaves it up all to their imagination, the reason won’t change anything. How funny, growing fond of someone who’s hardly interacted with him, won’t allow him the chance to anyways. Loneliness, maybe. The mansion was a little too large for him, one more person would make a huge difference.

─ You’re starting to get used to him and a few people. Quietly roaming the estate, insisting on doing some chores along with the maids even if it’s not needed. Diluc doesn’t particularly care, you’re free to do anything as long as you remain here in this mansion. Whatever makes you feel at home is fine. There’s a collar around your neck for good measures, can never be too safe - people have to know who they’re messing with if they cross paths with you. You’re a part of the Ragnvindr family, don’t think of yourself as any lower unless you force his hand.

06. Punishment

Pathetic whimpers fill up the entire basement.

You weren’t trying to leave, not on purpose. Someone had trouble juggling a couple chores and you took some to help them. There were no intentions on leaving the premise altogether when you stepped outside; tend to the bountiful garden, chase off pesky slimes nearby, just some minor tasks that’ll benefit the workers.

Never did you expect to be abruptly called to his office. Being reprimanded intensely, scolded for trying to help around the house, not being able to have a say in this one-sided argument - no break.

“Master Diluc... I’m... I’m truly sorry-“

“Shut it.”

You are now propped over his knee, bum and fuzzy ball of a tail exposed for the entire staff to see as they glance flustered at this startling display, and at each other blanketed in discomfort. When their boss asked if they could help him with something they figured it must’ve concerned the winery, business.

Not... this.

You’re used to these types of punishments. Standing in the corner swallowed in darkness, starved of food and affection, anything. You’ve managed to survive alone for a few days after being abandoned in the middle of the forest - this was nothing. The audience, however, is a new addition. So new, that you’ve already starting crying before anything could happen.

He’s not convinced.

“… Look at them.”

And you do, you’ve no choice anyways. His tightening grip on your hair says that much as he pulls on it even harder. Globs of tears run down your cheeks, wanting to save yourself further embarrassment by closing your eyes - but you don’t. It’ll just make Diluc all the more agitated.

They want to look away in respect for their young lady. They want to look away because this was an invasion of privacy but doing so would have them disrespecting Diluc and that’s the last thing they would ever do. He’s providing their income, the giant paychecks that feeds them and their impoverished families back home. What could a little bunny offer that’ll change their minds?

“Tell them.”

He’s unforgiving during these sessions.

“P-Please… wai-“

Smack.

Ruthless.

The sound reverberates through the air as a stinging pain pulsates through your bottom. Your scream is coarse and dry, has everyone flinching but him.

“I’m…” You sniff, “I’m..”

Another slap. Another cry.

“I’m a bad girl!”

He’ll have you repeat this phrase until your throat bleeds.

#yandere #yandere genshin impact #ch.aether #ch.albedo #ch.bennett #ch.chongyun #ch.diluc #ch.tartaglia #genshin impact x reader #tw.nsfw #tw.dubcon #tw.master/pet dynamics #sub!reader #lord.hcs #timt! series

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storiesfromthefarm · 2 years

Text

STORIES FROM THE FARM ✿ chapter 3

╰a Poly!SVT kpop au

╰ feat. SVT, original female character

╰ mentions of zombie apocalypse, mention of character death, slice of life, Halbi is a chatterbox but we love him anyway, implied anxiety, intrusive thoughts

╰ index: - Haraboji: 할아버지, trans. grandfather - Halbi: 할비, trans. nickname, short for 할아버지 - Gongjunim: 공주님, trans. princess - makgeolli: 막걸리, trans. a Korean sparkling rice wine drink. sometimes referred to as a farmer’s drink, popular among the rural working-class

╰a/n: thank you so much to everyone for the support of the story so far (人･㉨･)♡ i’m so grateful for the likes and for those who asked to be added to the taglist ! i hope you can continue to enjoy the farm life as it goes on~ (◡‿◡✿)

After all the members had washed, they lulled in the living room, talking quietly amongst themselves.

Soonyoung looked longingly toward the kitchen, where the smell of soybean paste soup and potato and kimchi pancakes filled the room. After a while, Ari sat a large pot onto the counter, surrounded by several serving plates. She left without a word, stepping out of the house.

A sudden, loud dong! was heard from the porch. All the members raised their head suddenly, eyes wide and concerned. When she returned, Jihoon spoke up.

“Is it safe to be so loud?”

“It’s fine,” Ari returned shortly. “We don’t get any around here.”

“Still, isn’t it better to be safe than sorry?” Soonyoung asked.

“Is that how you’ve survived for so long?” Ari returned, almost casually. “Being that safe?”

“Well…yeah.”

Ari raised her brows with a hum. “I guess in the city that makes sense. It’s different here. You’ll never see one on this farm.”

The front door opened and Halbi shuffled in. “Yah, Gongjunim!” He moved into the kitchen with an approving nod. “Such a good kid.” He patted her on the head fondly before washing his hands quickly in the sink.

“What do you want to drink, Halbi?”

“Pour me some more makgeolli. This batch is great. You’re really getting good at making it!”

Ari sighed, exasperated. “Halbi, if you keep drinking makgeolli, you’ll be drunk before dinner.”

“What’s wrong with that?” he laughed. “Well, well! You boys clean up nice! So handsome! Let’s move to the table!” He waved them on, toward the long dining table beside the living area.

“I’ll go get the leaves.”

“Let me help you,” Seokmin said quickly.

“I can do it,” Ari muttered.

“It’ll go faster with the two of you. Go on, boy! Gongjunim has a bad back; she can’t lift too much.”

Ari scrunched her nose. “Halbi!” she whined indignantly. “You make me sound like I’m invalid. I can lift a couple of table leaves.”

“Let him help you, anyway. I’m hungry.”

“Uggh!”

Ari stormed out, followed quickly by Seokmin.

“Haraboji…Ari-ssi seems…”

Halbi waved Jun off quickly. “I’ll apologize for her. I told ya’, she’s no good with strangers. Has some,” he gestured toward his head, “mental things. I’m too old to understand it, but I know she struggles. Don’t take it too personal.”

Ari and Seokmin returned with the leaves. Between everyone, they quickly fastened them in place. “It’s room for sixteen, so there should be plenty of space. Let me go get the chairs.”

Seokmin followed without asking this time, and they returned a moment later with additional chairs, as well.

“Sit down, sit down!” Halbi urged, waving toward the table.

Ari moved away toward the kitchen, and Seokmin followed her again. She looked back at him as he stood near, waiting as she gathered enough bowls, plates, and cutlery. “What are you, a shadow?” she murmured, shoving half the dishes into his hands. The other half she took along with the cutlery to the table, setting a place for Halbi first before placing dishes before each member. She served the food after, placing the large pot in the middle and several plates full of pancakes along the length of the table.

When she took her place beside Halbi, they all sat quietly, swallowing thickly as they stared at the food on the table. Ari spooned soup gently into a bowl, placing it in front of Halbi and tearing a thick piece of pancake off for him.

He patted her fondly on the head once more. “Go on and eat,” he gestured toward the boys. “You must be hungry!”

“Thank you for the food!” A chorus of excitement rang throughout the room as they boys began to serve themselves eagerly.

Jeonghan took a sip of soup first, breathing out heavily afterward. “Yaaah, it’s amazing.”

Soonyoung clenched his fist, hanging his head as he took in the taste. “So amazing.” He knocked his fist on the table several times before diving back in, taking a large bite full of tofu.

Ari, who was nibbling at a small plate of pancake, rolled her eyes. “It’s just soup,” she murmured.

“It’s more than we’ve had in months,” Seungkwan offered sincerely. “We’re really thankful.”

“That’s right,” Halbi chimed in. “They’ve been living outside, Gongjunim. Probably not had a proper meal in a long time.”

“The kimchi pancake,” Seokmin sighed, taking another bite.

“Gongjunim and I made that kimchi last winter,” Halbi gestured. “It’s fermented well. The cabbage harvest last season was good enough we made pounds o’ kimchi! Gongjunim doesn’t eat it, so it’ll last us a while yet!” Halbi chuckled.

“You don’t eat kimchi?” Joshua asked, leaning toward Ari.

She frowned. “I can’t eat spicy food.”

“Gongjunim has stomach issues,” Halbi offered, shaking his head as if it were the damndest shame. “Can’t hardly eat anything.”

Ari prickled, blush dusting her cheeks. “Halbi!”

“Ack!” He waved her off dismissively. “Now you kids tell me about yourselves. You were singers before, right? Yah, Gongjunim. These boys said they were some of those idol singers you liked so much! Do you recognize them?”

Ari narrowed her eyes, turning her eyes toward her plate as she popped another piece of potato pancake into her mouth. “No. They weren’t one of my groups.”

“Well, that’s too bad! So, how long you kids been singin’?”

“We trained since we were young,” Chan offered. “My parents were dancers.”

“I trained for six years under the company before debut,” Seungcheol offered.

“Six years! That’s something. Gongjunim tells me you idol singers have a hard time of it. Bad companies and strict rules and all that, too. You must have worked a lot to become singers.”

Mingyu smiled. “We worked hard to become the Seventeen our fans could be proud of.”

Halbi laughed. “Now don’t be so diplomatic on our account. Tell me honestly - did you have a hard time?”

“Well…our company was small before,” Minghao said cautiously. “We had to do many things on our own, due to lack of funding, but they always supported us as artists. Our members were very involved in songwriting and choreography.”

Halbi shook his head. “When I was young, you just had a good voice. Now, that old halmoni used to sing. Got offered a good job of it, too, back in the day, but she got pregnant and decided to stay here on the farm and raise her son.”

Ari hung her head further, staring determinedly at her plate, picking at her pancake. Halbi glanced over, sighing. “Now don’t get too sad. She had a good long life, Gongjunim. We buried her proper and she’s in a better place now.” Halbi placed a heavy hand on Ari’s shoulder. “Halmoni used to sing to Gongjunim, too; she loves music. We’d all gather over in the community building, make a good meal, sing some oldies. Ari never got on well with people her age,” Halbi laughed. “She always preferred us old folks!”

Ari’s face reddened, but she stayed silent. Lunch went on like that, Halbi leading most of the conversation. The boys felt light, warm, more at peace than they had in a long time. Cleaned, safe, and with stomachs full, they ended the meal. Ari quietly moved the empty serving dishes into the sink. They had been scraped clean along with the bowls and front plates the members had used.

“Thank you for the meal!” They all cheered.

“It was so good!”

“The best meal we’ve had in forever!”

“I think I might cry.”

Ari walked passed every compliment, dishes stacked in her hands. She dumped them all in the sink. Slowly, she tied up her long hair, opening the dishwasher to load it.

“Can we help?” Vernon asked.

“No,” she replied shortly.

“Aiyo, Gongjunim. Why don’t you let the boys take care of the dishes. You can start their clothes.”

Ari’s head dropped back, a frustrated sigh leaving her nose. She slapped the rubber gloves down onto the edge of the sink. “Fine.” She turned toward Vernon. “The dishwasher is more efficient than hand washing when it’s full. Just load it. Don’t rinse; it’s a waste of water. Do a quick wash on the hottest setting, then wipe the sink down.”

Vernon nodded, his mouth slightly open as she stomped passed him, grabbing the laundry basket she’d left earlier from the counter.

- - -

Ari grumbled to herself as she picked up the dirty pile of clothes on the bathroom floor, snatching the towel that was hanging off the rack for good measure.

“Start their clothes,” she repeated sourly. “As if I’d prefer to pick up their dirty underwear rather than wash the dishes.” She huffed, moving quickly along to the next bathroom. Before long, her basket was full again, the smell of dirt and sweat and who knows what else filling her nose as she shoved them all into the washing machine quickly.

She smacked the buttons irritably, setting it to a quick wash before hesitating, staring at the intensely dirty clothes in the washer. She sighed, turning it to a hot, heavy cycle. Just this once, she thought. It’s fine.

She leaned back against the opposite counter, sighing as she grabbed a wet wipe from the container against the wall. She wiped down her hands, removing the residual dirt from the clothes, frowning.

Twelve people was a lot in this world. That was only the members. Add her and Halbi and that was a grand total of fourteen. Too many, she thought, it’s too many for the house. She had the room, sure, but resources were another issue. Food - fine, maybe she and Halbi had more than enough, but what about the electricity? The water? Even with the generator and the solar battery, even with the well never having let them down before - wasn’t fourteen people asking too much of her amenities?

Everything on the farm had been nearly brand new when the world ended, thanks to her renovations, so it had a good long life ahead of it, but every extra person in the house put a strain on the system. Every single additional use would cut its life down that much more quickly. Even the farm, as perfect as it seemed, couldn’t be a permanent home. Even she would have to move on eventually, when the septic tank filled up, when the well ran dry, when the soil went bad…

- - -

“Haraboji, what do you need help with on the farm?” Seungkawn asked.

“Well, we got a fence down way over the other side there, and it’s ‘bout right time to rotate the fields. Got a couple we didn’t plant in to give ‘em a rest, now we gotta clean ‘em up of any leftover seedlings and such, till ‘em again, plant a different crop.” Halbi leaned back on the couch easily. “Ahh, but don’t you worry ‘bout that now. You just rest today. Musta been hard on you boys, being on the move all this time.”

They all nodded quietly. “Haraboji, we are really grateful to you, and Ari-ssi, too. We’ve hardly met anyone else since it happened; it’s nice to see others, and for you to help us so selflessly…” Seungcheol offered.

Halbi waved him off. “We have more than enough, and this old man’s got a sense about him.” Halbi tapped his temple with a chuckle. “I can tell good people when I see ‘em. We help good people.”

“But…Ari-ssi…” Chan trailed off.

Halbi sighed heavily, lacing his fingers as he rested them on his stomach. “Gongjunim is spoiled. Always has been. Likes things her own way, ya’ see? People comin’ and goin’, not knowin’ whether they’re good or here to hurt us - stresses her out. She’s a worrier, Gongjunim. Always thinking about the next trouble, always assuming the worst. Didn’t know how to live in the moment even before all this mess.” Halbi shook his head. “Her heart’s in the right, though. Never a safer place to be, her heart. Once Gongjunim decides you’re one of her people, not a damn thing in this world she won’t do for ‘ya.”

“Is that why she took care of the farm?” Jihoon asked.

“That’s right. When she was lookin’ to invest, she partnered with some hotshot here in Korea. He gave her a lot of options, but she turned ‘em all down - said they were boring. Well, when he eventually showed her our listing, she called me up right away. Think she was touched by the story. We started as a family farm, I told ‘ya, didn’t I? Well, we wanted to keep it that way. Gongjunim…” Halbi sighed. “She never had much of a family. Didn’t want to see another family lose what they’d worked for after so long. Worst thing in the world for her is to see others going through same things she did. Won’t ever allow it if it’s in her power to stop.”

“It sounds like Ari-ssi is a good person,” Minghao offered softly.

“That’s right. You just gotta give her time. Not easy for her, warmin’ up to people. Makes her nervous. She puts up that attitude of hers, but don’t let her fool ‘ya. Just be good to her and she’ll come around. But be a bit gentle, too. Girl’s as sensitive as a raw nerve.” Halbi shook his head again. “Where’d she get off to anyway?”

- - -

Jeonghan rounded the corner, head tipping to the side as he tried to find his way to the laundry room. How many rooms does this house have?

When he spotted the door slightly ajar, the sound of the washing machine clunking away, he moved quickly, pushing the door open further and sliding in.

“Ari-ssi?”

She stood, still as stone, staring intently at the clothes as they spun in the machine. Jeonghan’s eyes widened as he took her in, gentle against the counter, arms in front of her as she laced her fingers together tightly. She didn’t seem to have heard him, and he nearly spoke again before he noticed that her hands were stark white, shaking as she gripped her own fingers too tight.

“Ari-sii?” He moved forward slowly, easing into the edge of her vision. “Are you all right?”

When he moved in front of her, her hands twitched and her eyes came back into focus. She flung her hands apart, head shooting up to look at him, eyes glistening.

“What?” she snapped, backing away. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look a little…” If Jeonghan was being honest, he wanted to say crazy. She was paler than normal, eyes wide and frantic, hands beginning to turn red as they filled back up with blood, crescent shaped indents on her skin where she’d dug her nails in. “…tired.”

“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “What do you want?”

Jeonghan bristled. After everything Haraboji had told them, he felt like he wanted to be more understanding of Ari, but her attitude certainly made it difficult. Ever since they arrived, she’d shown them nothing but hostility. No sympathy for their struggles or their loss, which he was certain she knew about by now. There was a zombie apocalypse going on and she was grousing at them because of their dirty feet earlier. Still, he took a deep breath. Sensitive, Haraboji said. She’s sensitive. He nearly rolled his eyes.

“Haraboji was looking for you.” He forced himself to speak evenly.

“Fine,” she whispered. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

As Jeonghan left, Ari felt her bottom lip quiver. You didn’t even last a single day, you idiot. Not even one day…

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆

taglist: @hyuckscult13 | @woozarts | @imnotreadytolove

#seventeen #seventeen story #seventeen series #svt #seventeen scenario #seventeen imagine

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shinichirosbabymama · 3 years

Text

Yuuta Okkotsu relationship headcanons

A/N: Okay so I started writing these with no real intention or direction so you're gonna have to excuse the fact they're basically word vomit 🤠 I'm in deep Yuuta brainrot right now so please enjoy the below as my coping mechanism.

Implied NSFW but nothing explicit. Both reader and Yuuta are aged up. Minor spoilers for the JJK manga (the plot isn't referenced at all but it does mention some of Yuuta's techniques so if you're strict about avoiding any spoilers please don't read it). I've placed the headcanons under a read more just to avoid spoiling anyone. Enjoy ❤❤❤

Based on purely my own observations and opinions, I think Yuuta is drawn to powerful people so it would not surprise me if he was interested in another sorcerer.

Being a sorcerer is pretty cool on the surface but a lot of the time it's pretty horrible too. You're constantly surrounded by fear, death, injuries, and the overwhelming negative energy from the cursed spirits.

It requires a lot of mental resilience which you've had to build up over years of training. As a result you've hardened emotionally, its hard to build relationships with others and you could do without the complication.

Yuuta comes crashing into your life with his special grade curse and nervous energy and throws everything off kilter.

He's so transparent. Where you tend to mask your feelings to save yourself any potential heartache, he wears his heart on his sleeve. Its both refreshing and infectious despite the fact you try to hide the way your heart stutters when he smiles at you.

I feel like this relationship would be years in the making. You're in denial for so long, trying to convince yourself that you don't feel anything for him, that you're simply reacting to someone in your life who is nice for once.

Plus Rika fucking terrifies you. You and Yuuta begin to interact more once Rika's cursed is lifted and you find the feeling even harder to fight.

You throw yourself into your training, surpassing most of the other students - although you're constantly reminded that he's still stronger than you. You thought you'd be jealous but instead you find yourself feeling proud of him.

That doesn't the two of you having healthy competition. You spar frequently and 9/10 Yuuta folds your ass but you don't mind so much when you get to watch him hover over you, his eyebrows pulled together with worry as he offers you his hand. He's so handsome it's painful.

Gojo starts sending Yuuta overseas on different missions (the bastard) so what was a simmering tension between the two of you turns into full blown pining.

Gojo (again, the bastard) senses something isn't right with you and he requests that you fly out to support Yuuta on a mission.

You're happy that you're going to be able to see him again but you're also apprehensive. You know you can't carry on in your current state - you need to tell him how you feel and this mission seems like the perfect opportunity to do that.

You throw up the whole time on the flight there and blame it on turbulence (bullshit).

When he meets you at the airport he pulls you into a tight hug and you hesitate with your face pressed into his neck for a moment, willing your face to stop burning quickly. He smells like soap and detergent and it's comforting.

Luckily he's blushing too and he scratches the back of his neck and apologises for hugging you like that. "I've been alone for so long...and I really missed you!"

You need to talk to talk to him but first things first you need to take out this special grade cursed spirit.

Easy peasy right? Should be no match for you and Yuuta. Except it is and everything goes horribly wrong and you nearly fucking die.

Yuuta very conveniently masters his reversed curse technique at the time and saves your life. You never forget the look on his face when you wake up and gasp for air. The poor boy is traumatised but he cups your cheek when he sees that your conscious again like he needs to feel that you're real.

During the flight over there, you'd thought of all the things you wanted to say to him. You were going to be brave, sit there, explain your feelings and brace for rejection.

Except that didn't happen. You woke up, looked at the pain in his eyes, and smashed your lips against his. It's messy and awkward. Yuuta is confused as fuck for about three seconds but then he kisses you back and its desperate and hungry as years of denying your feelings for each other finally boils over.

You leave the hell hole that you both nearly died in but the kisses don't stop after that. Yuuta's pining is as evident as your own and it sets your soul on fire. The two of you don't leave your hotel room for two days as you make up for lost time.

After that it's time for a serious discussion. The idea of being together whilst risking your lives constantly terrified you both but you knew deep down you were going to love him whether you were with him or not so you may as well enjoy each other while you were still here.

There were some ground rules though. The main one being that you could not go on missions together. Whilst it was tempting to be a very effective double act, you knew it would severely impair your judgement during a fight.

It sounds strange but you both basically agreed that if you died, you died. Neither of you wanted to die with any regrets and this was the only way to ensure that.

It was hard being away from him after that. You tried hiding your relationship from Gojo as long as possible but he soon caught on. He teased you both incessantly but on the upside he stopped sending Yuuta away so much.

From then on you take each day as it comes, silently looking forward to the day you can both retire.

Once you're graduated you move into an apartment together, a safe space for you both.

It's hard being away for him but he makes it all worth it when he comes home, brushing off the likely very dangerous situations he's been in to rest his hands on your hips and plant kisses on the back of your neck as you try to cook a meal for you both.

You call him a menace and he gives you that same breathtaking smile that used to plague your thoughts all those years ago.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder and sighs but it's a happy one. It feels good to decompress.

"I missed you. How did I get so lucky?"

"I missed you too. Good thing I kissed you that day hm?"

"Mhm. My turn now." He replies and turns you around so that he can kiss you properly. It's soft and tender and very much him.

You know this might be the last time. That anything could happen. But if it did - you had no regrets.

#yuuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu headcanon #jjk headcanon #yuuta x reader #yuta x reader

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rachey899 · 3 years

Text

What a circus GT

GT Prompt from a post I found

Warnings: Abuse, life threatening situations

“Get up girl!” a loud roar sounded out around Cadence, but she was a little more preoccupied with the flames threatening to lick off her eyebrows. The ring master cracked his whip and she flinched, all she had to do was walk the tightrope to the other side, simple right? Wrong.

No one had told her that below her would be fiery hell with an abusive ring master whipping her back if she froze in one place too long. She could feel the sting of the wounds on her back and the stiff already drying blood on her shirt thanks to the heat of the flames. She was currently crouched down on the wire where she had stayed since wobbling a little too much and almost loosing her balance, she had to move, or she would be cooked. That or whipped to death.

No one told her this is what the circus would be like, she had been living alone on the streets for as long as she could remember. 16 was not a particularly safe age to be alone on the streets, a friend had suggested she join the circus when it arrived in town, famously known for taking in misfits and outcasts. She had always been agile and flexible and thought there was some acrobatics that she could probably do. Little did she know it would be so much worse.

Carefully she stood back up on the wire and adjusted her feet to regain her sense of balance. Concentration and focus was key, however that was a little hard to find in her current situation, if only she could block out the heat and the pain then maybe she would be okay.

“Faster!” the ring master cracked his whip again and she felt her back slice open, fuck.

Her plan was to do a few tricks, perhaps a cartwheel on her journey across the wire to impress the ring master, but all she could focus on now was reaching the other side alive. Cadence kept her eyes on her feet carefully placing one foot in front of the other with her arms outstretched, just keep moving, she reminded herself.

She eventually reached the platform on the other side and collapsed in a heap, panting and sweating, red welts covered and blistered her skin. She was so relieved to have just survived the treacherous tight rope that she didn’t even notice the ring master standing over her, his puffy red face glaring down at her, furious.

“Worthless wench!” he shouted at her spraying spit on her face and showing off his uneven and blackened teeth. He grasps her forearm in a meaty fist yanking her to her feet, and irritating the blisters on her skin painfully. She let out a scream as her vision went blurry with pain and then the world was zipping past her, the whole tent like an orange, red and black blur as she fell to the ground, then everything went black.

When she woke she was being dragged along the dirt by her legs, she heard the clanking of metal and then she was lifted and thrown to the ground again in a heap. She raised her head enough to see the ring master glaring in at her through a barred metal door “you either succeed or die in the circus” he hissed “and you my dear, failed”. And with that the door of the cage slammed shut and locked, the ring master turned his back and laughed to himself as he walked away.

Darkness, cold and quiet surrounded her and she relished the relief that all those things brought her in this moment. She spread out like a star fish on the cool ground and tried to imagine it soothing her sores rather than causing a likely infection. The ring master had implied that she was either dead or dying but in this moment she was alive, still breathing, still surviving.

“Are you okay miss?” a voice rumbled around her, she couldn’t quite pinpoint where it was coming from, it seemed to come from above and surrounded her. Then she heard the clanking of heavy metals being shaken and dragged loudly, the sound ringing in her ears and the ground was now trembling.

She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, staring at the dirt on the ground and watching the tiny pebbles and clumps of dirt bounce around. Slowly she stood and braced herself to turn around, ready to face whatever kind of beast the ring master had placed her in a cage with.

The first thing she saw was a wall of ripped up and dirty denim covering knees larger than she was tall, further up chains wrapped around a waist and torso bigger than life itself all the way to a dark face looming over her. His shoulder length dark auburn hair hung in greasy clumps about his sharp face, he seemed to be frowning at her with intense hazel eyes.

She had been dumped in a cage with a giant.

Without even enough energy to scream she found herself slowly backing further away from his looming presence until her back scraped against the metal bars, her back ignited with pain and she hissed.

“So this is what the ringmaster meant” she whispered to herself unable to take her eyes off the humungous beast in front of her, he meant for her to be eaten or crushed or worse, this gigantic being could do whatever he wanted to her and she was helpless to stop him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t hear what you said” the gigantic man asked, his voice thudded in her chest, or maybe that was her frantic heart. His face was twisted in confusion trying to listen for her much smaller voice.

Cadence just couldn’t bring herself to speak up, what was the point, engage in polite conversation before dinner time and then lights out.

Giants existed, just not on this side of the border, they stayed in their own territory, only unfortunate humans who wandered too close ever saw them and the lucky few who made it back alive, only lived to tell the horrifying tales.

The giant seemed to grow bored of waiting for a response from her and backed away, giving her some space she didn’t even realise she had been praying for. With a loud shifting of fabric and chains the giant sat back against the cage causing it to squeal under his weight and laid his legs out in front of him, sitting like that he spanned the whole length of the cage from the back all the way to where his feet pressed against the other side.

He stared up at the ceiling and sighed heavily, hands resting in his lap, he looked as relaxed as anyone could be while covered in chains that clearly dug into his skin leaving his wrists and sections of his torso bleeding. He had clearly been here a while, perhaps he was a side show the evil ringmaster made a profit out of, how they managed to find and capture a giant eluded her.

Cadence calmed slightly seeing the giant’s more relaxed rather than imposing form, she sat down as well but was careful enough not to rest her back on the cage. The giant man didn’t seem to be in any hurry to grab at her or pay her any attention at all at the moment so she decided it was a good opportunity to inspect the damage of her own wounds.

Two thick slices where the whip had caught her wrists on both arms were still oozing and warm, her bare arms bore burn blisters and every single open wound was coated in dirt stinging her continuously. She gently tried to brush away the dirt but let out a hiss as the sting amplified each time.

“Here” the giant’s voice rumbled startling her again, Cadence hadn’t heard him moving around but she had been preoccupied and trying to think of anything else but his immense presence. She looked up to see that he was holding out a bit of fabric that looked like it had come from the cuffs of his pants, it was dripping with water between his finger and thumb.

Slowly she reached out to take it from him, the cool wet material would be able to wash away the majority of the dirt from her injuries to prevent infection. She pressed the fabric to her hot skin and sighed audibly in relief that the cool water brought.

She met the giant’s hazel eyes as they stared at her, watching her every move, he seemed to be waiting for something “Thank you” she said genuinely.

He nodded his head once and sat back again taking a sip out of a large bowl filled with water that she hadn’t even noticed before now. The bowl itself was big enough to be a small pool to her, she could easily take a bath in it, and this man was using it as a cup.

Cadence cleaned away the dirt and grime from the wounds on her arms and soaked her leggings to cool the burns, it wouldn’t help in the long run though, what she needs was a nice cold shower to run over her burns but this at least provided temporary relief. Her next task was to tend to the wounds on her back. She glanced at the giant man sitting beside her, she needed to remove her shirt in order to clean the wounds and then they needed to dry out, but he was still watching her.

She reached around and attempted to tear the shirt, but her attempts were useless, she closed her eyes preparing herself to lift the shirt over her head when there was a sudden pressure on her shoulders. She opened her eyes to see a finger resting on each of her shoulders holding her firmly in place.

“Hold still” he said, the pressure increased, and the tearing of fabric could be heard and then she screamed. The wet cloth in her lap disappeared and suddenly a whole new kind of pain lit up her back as the fabric was rubbing on her wounds, she continued to scream. She thought perhaps he was cleaning her, maybe he didn’t like dirty food.

Cadence was reduced to quiet sobs by the time the giant had finished his work, complete with letting the water run down her back and then all pressure was removed and the pain in her back calmed as cool air touched it. Carefully she opened her eyes to see the giant man sitting back where he had been previously and threw the dirty cloth into a corner.

Cadence was clutching the now loose fabric of her shirt to her chest, she watched as the giant met her gaze and then quickly looked away, he sighed heavily causing a slight breeze to hit her.

“Th-thank you” Cadence stuttered, she had decided if he was going to eat her, he would have done so by now, not just clean her and leave her alone, maybe he was only trying to help. She had to hold on to some kind of hope in this hopeless situation.

He met her eyes and a small smile creased the corners of his lips “Your welcome”.

He looked her up and down, his large gold and green eyes scanning her body and then met her eyes once more “So what’s your name?” he asked her.

“C-cadence” she said carefully still feeling a little uncertain, but he hadn’t yet made any move to harm her, he’d only helped her so far.

“I’m Luke” such a normal name for such an extraordinary person, he extended a hand down towards her and she flinched, but his hand stopped a few inches form her face and only his forefinger was extended towards her.

Her shaky hands reached out towards his finger and grasped his fingertip, the large appendage then gently moved up and down once before she quickly released it. He smiled gently at her, dirt smeared his face, but he held a kind of rugged beauty, if he weren’t so large and scary, she might have thought him attractive.

“How’s your back feeling now Cadence?” he asked her, the volume of his voice had toned down a fair bit the more he spoke, though it still rumbled through her.

“Oh yes it’s feeling much better, thank you Luke, um hey?” she stopped herself short before asking the question, she wasn’t sure if it would be rude, and she didn’t want to anger a ginormous being that she was confined in a cage with and no escape. She shook her head instead.

“Yeah?” he asked awaiting her question, she had hoped he would just ignore it.

Fidgeting with her fingers she took a deep breath “How um how did you get here? I just mean it doesn’t exactly look like you’re here voluntarily, I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer, I’ll shut up, Sorry” she rambled into her lap not looking up at him and hoping she hadn’t angered him.

“It’s okay” he said softly “Just so you know, I don’t plan on hurting you if that’s what you’re thinking, I may have some anger towards a certain few of your particular race but you’re not the reason I’m stuck in this god forsaken place” she looked up at Luke now, he seemed more human now, his tone was so, normal and he looked so genuine.

“Anyway” he said “I was taking a walk along the border one day, Christ, months ago now, came across a human man who told me that a circus was close by, he said it was open to both humans and giants, the first of its kind, very revolutionary. So, I followed him, he offered me a drink and the next thing I knew I was waking up in a cage chained to the floor. The fucker had drugged me and tricked me, if I ever get out of here the first person to be flattened will be him” he snarled. Cadence gasped at the gruesome image of him crushing a human under his feet.

“Sorry” he mumbled, she shook her head decidedly, Luke would be her ally in this whole mess “It’s okay” she said, “and perfectly justifiable, but can I get a few punches in first?” she smirked at him, and he laughed, a wonderfully musical and deep sound that she wanted to hear again.

“Sure, I’d love to see that” his laughter died down, but his smile remained as he looked down at her “Okay so if we ever get out of here, you knock his lights out and I get to make a pancake out of him, sounds like a good plan to me, deal?” he winked at her and smiled.

All good things must come to an end though.

“Oh I see your making friends Beast” the poisonous voice of the ringmaster sounded out from the entrance of the cave. Beside him was a giant-sized bowl of what looked like scraps and mostly garbage.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?” he teased, his crooked smile leered in at them both.

“Unlike you I treat people with dignity and respect, I don’t harm others and I certainly don’t eat them, sir” the volume in Luke’s voice had raised again and he spat the word ‘sir’ at the ringmaster in distaste.

The ring master laughed loudly “You’ll do what I say, Beast, she’s of no use to me, I need you to dispose of her” Cadence held her breath.

“And if I refuse?” Luke asked, his face was stony and his eyes glared daggers at the horrible excuse of a man.

“Oh, you’ll eat her, you’ll have no choice” just like that he snapped his fingers and the guards wheeled away the giant bowl out of sight. Cadence began to shake; would Luke really eat her if he was hungry enough? The ring master was already walking away.

A smaller bowl and slid through the bars presumably for her, a cold bowl of porridge was what it looked like, but it smelled like something out of a toilet. She held the bowl in her lap looking at it with disinterest, he heart thumping in her chest.

Luke sighed audibly and sat back harshly on the bars of the cage, he looked down at her with a frown creasing his eyebrows. He looked at the bowl in her hands “You should eat” he said simply. Cadence shook her head and held the bowl up towards him “No you should have it” she said mostly out of fear that if he really did get hungry enough, he just might eat her despite what he says.

His frown turned to a soft smile, and he shook his head “Thank you, but there’s not nearly enough there to even make a difference” just then a loud rumbling came from his stomach, he crossed his arms over his belly in a weak attempt to conceal the sound.

“This isn’t the first and probably won’t be the last time I’ve gone a few days without food” he reasoned, Cadence couldn’t take her eyes off his stomach, Luke leaned down and used a finger to gently lift her chin up so that their eyes met.

“Look at me Cadence, I promise I will not harm you”

#Gt #gianttiny #giant #tiny #circus

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sometimesitrytowritethings · 3 years

Text

Outlaw: Part 3

Image source

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Canon-typical violence, Stalking, Implied future assault, Fear of death

Summary: All you wanted was to be left alone, to forget Arthur Morgan existed entirely. But, damn it, fate still had other plans in mind.

Notes: "TrYiNg To PoSt EvErY wEeK." Lol, who was I kidding. Anyway, enjoy!

-----

The morning sun peeked over the horizon, casting your surroundings in shades of gold. Birds chirped in the spring air as a comforting scent overwhelmed your senses.

It took a moment for you to place it; campfire, hay, whisky, tobacco. It was him. It all smelled like him, and you suddenly hated yourself for enjoying it. For wanting to nuzzle deeper into the blanket, your son in your arms, and stay in this strange cot forever.

But, of course you couldn’t.

Even if you could have, your pride wouldn’t have allowed it.

You were angry with the man, furious. There was no reason for you to lay there like a lovesick teen, getting drunk off the smell of his dirty blankets.

You hated him, didn’t you remember?

Sighing, you raised your head quietly from the cot and pulled the blanket off of you. The cool, damp morning air hit your skin, and you could feel your hair stand on end. It had been a while since you had spent the night outside. The last had been when you were young, gazing at the stars with Andrew and then waking up, covered in a blanket, hair wet with morning dew and your husband beside you. Those had been some of the best times of your life.

The chill in the air and the dew on the grass brought back memories as you stepped out of bed, but it wasn’t the same. Instead of falling asleep under the stars with your lover at your side, you found yourself hiding out in the wild. Running from a gang of monsters who had never before paid attention to you.

Silently, you pulled the blankets back over Ben, still fast asleep, and glanced around the small space.

Arthur’s space.

It felt wrong, almost voyeuristic, to be there without him. His entire life was on display in front of you. Some of the things you already knew, like a photograph of Mary with a letter tucked underneath. But there was so much more that you had never come to know during your short time with the man. So much that he hadn’t told you. So much you had never seen. Photos of his mother and father, a dog, a picture of him with two older men. An orchid, dried and in a jar. A chocolate bar and a child’s drawing. It was all so strange, and a completely different side to the man who you had known... who you barely knew.

Suddenly, you were shaken from your investigation by someone clearing their throat at the entrance of the tent. You turned quickly, embarrassed at having been caught, and were met with the sight of a young woman. Dressed in a thick coat, her dark hair pulled back into a low bun, she held two steaming cups of coffee.

“Mornin’,” she said quietly, so as not to wake Ben, who was still sleeping soundly in Arthur’s cot. “Thought you might like some coffee.”

With a small smile, you followed her out of the tent before daring to speak. “That would be lovely, thank you,” you replied, taking the cup from her outstretched hand and following her to the nearby table. It was early enough that very few people seemed to be awake, and for that you were grateful. Their curious stares would only come later, after you had woken up a bit more.

The cup warmed your chilled fingers as you sat, looking at the woman across from you. She was young, a few years younger than yourself, with kind brown eyes and lovely dark hair. “‘m Abigail,” she introduced herself, taking a sip of her coffee. “Charles told me what happened last night. How’re you holdin’ up?”

You cleared your throat and glanced around the camp, wary of eavesdroppers, before giving the woman your name. “I… I’m fine, I suppose,” you responded quietly, shooting a quick glance back at the tent where your son was asleep. “I’m still a bit… shaken, but thanks to Charles’s quick thinking we got out alright.”

You took another sip of your coffee to steady yourself as the memories of the night flooded back to you. Walking home in the dark, being followed by those men - O’Driscolls, Charles had called them - the feeling of hot breath on your neck, the sound of gunshots ringing through your ears. By the time you had replayed the events over again, your hands were shaking lightly. You set the cup down on the table and pressed your fingers into your eyelids, as if that would push the images away.

“I’m just glad… just glad that we were able to get Ben away too,” you murmured to her, finally taking your hands away from your face. She looked at you with sympathy before reaching out and gently taking your hand in hers.

“I’m glad too,” her voice was soft, full of emotion. “If someone took my Jack from me… if I weren’t able to save him somehow... well, I don’t know what I would do.” You followed her gaze to a small lean-to across the camp, where you spotted a young boy, about Ben’s age, cuddled in a pile of blankets.

Then you knew - she understood. Smiling gently at her, you took another sip of your coffee in companionable silence, allowing yourself time to decompress. After a few minutes, Abigail rose to pour the two of you another cup, and you glanced around the camp once more. In the daylight, it was easier to make out the dozen or so open tents and lean-tos, each with a few dozing people beneath them. In the middle of the circle, stood a larger tent, its flaps tied tightly shut.

Across from the large tent, stood what looked like a provisions wagon. Several skinned deer hung from a makeshift drying rack as a burly man got to work chopping vegetables on a dirty butchers’ block. Next to the wagon, was the campfire that boasted a pot and percolator full of coffee. Two young women stood with Charles beside the fire, who gave you a brief nod when your eyes met.

As the two of you shared your second cup of coffee, the camp slowly began to come to life. Several men came from out of the nearby trees and laid down to rest, as Charles and another man went to take their place. Guards, you suspected.

Javier woke from his tent next to another campfire and gave you a brief nod before heading to grab an apple from the provisions. Sean, the redhead from the night before, still laid passed out next to where Javier had been sleeping.

You had to admit, despite the circumstances, this was nice. Somehow, peaceful.

As you finished your second cup of coffee, you could hear sudden, panicked cries coming from the direction of Arthur’s tent. “Mama? Mama!?” The moment your son’s frantic shouts reached your ears, you darted in his direction with Abigail on your heels. “Mama?!”

“Ben? Ben it’s alright,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm as you entered the tent. Ben had sat up in the small cot, tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyes and nose were flushed red from crying, and he immediately sprung out of bed and into your arms as soon as he saw you. You shushed him, petting the top of his curls and hugging him to you. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m here.”

His breaths came in sharp, panicked sobs, even as he began to calm down in your arms. He tried to speak, but his words only came out in stammered, broken sentences. “I… didn’t… you… home…” he cried into your blouse, clutching the fabric in tiny fists.

“Shhhh,” you whispered into his hair, kneeling down to the ground and pulling him into your chest. “Mama’s here. It’s alright, sweetheart,” you continued to calm him, rubbing his back and cuddling him close, far too distracted to notice the small commotion outside of the tent. You can’t imagine how much of a shock it must have been, waking up alone and in a strange place. Kicking yourself for leaving the tent, you shushed him further. “I know, I know,” you whispered, your attempts to soothe the crying boy working slowly. “I’m here, it’s alright.”

It was only when you heard a throat clear that you realised someone else had entered the tent. For only a moment, you glanced up at the man standing behind you, a large buck slung over his shoulder and his eyes wide as saucers. Arthur was back, and was evidently not entirely happy at seeing you in his tent.

Unfortunately, he would need to wait. This was his space, but your son was your priority. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” you murmured, getting to your feet now that Ben’s sobs had turned to quiet whimpers. “Are you hungry? Let’s go see if we can find some food, alright?”

You felt his nod more than you saw it, as he latched onto your legs. Reaching down, you tried to gently pry him off and coax him into taking your hand. “Come on, I bet Abigail can show us where to get breakfast, and then you can meet Jack,” you said quietly, pointedly avoiding Arthur’s shocked gaze. Ben nodded again, and reluctantly let go of your legs to hold your outstretched hand.

It took a lot of patience and soothing words to drag Ben over to where Abigail stood, waiting. She held out two rolls and an apple for the both of you with a gentle smile at the child hiding behind you. Without a word, she led you back to the table where your coffee sat, now cold. You sat in your chair from earlier, pulling Ben into your lap and setting the roll in front of him.

He didn’t touch it.

Instead, he turned to you and buried his face into your shoulder, shy and embarrassed. With a sigh, you rubbed his back, trying your best to ignore the stares that the earlier outburst had now drawn.

“He’ll come ‘round,” came Abigail’s voice from across the table. “Must’ve been awful scary wakin’ up in some strange tent.” She sat down across from you, pulling out a small knife to cut the apple. It would be much easier to coax some food into your son this way.

You mouthed a “thank you” towards her as you felt Ben turn his head slightly. He was still nuzzled into your neck, but had one eye out, looking warily at the woman across from him.

“I’m Abigail,” she told him, reaching across the table with a slice of apple in her hand. “Here, you hungry?” Slowly, Ben finally to face her, but diverted his eyes to the grains of the wooden table. His whimpers had all but faded, but his eyes and nose were still swollen from his tears.

You nudged him slightly, urging him to take the bit of apple. And, after a moment, he did.

Gingerly, he held it in his hand and began nibbling on the end as he looked warily around the camp. Luckily, the stares had mostly stopped at that point, as everyone had moved onto their morning chores. However, one pair of eyes were focused directly on the two of you.

Even if you hadn’t followed your son’s gaze, you still would have felt his turquoise eyes burning holes into you from across the camp. He had handed over the buck to the man at the provisions wagon long ago, and now was speaking quietly to Javier, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Your eyes met his and the world froze for just a moment.

Immediately, you were taken back to the few occasions you had met him. The night at Smithfield’s, the hotel bath, behind the town jail, the boarding house, and finally, the Downes ranch. Your short relationship had been tumultuous, to say the least. Unimaginable highs and electric chemistry followed by crashing lows and a devastating realisation. At that point, you felt you had seen enough of the man to know what you needed to know. Not only had he made it abundantly clear that the two of you wouldn’t work, but he had additionally gone on to strongarm your surrogate family just a few weeks later.

You should hate him. You should despise him for how he had treated Thomas. You should loathe him for how he left things with you.

And yet…

Here you were, unable to tear your eyes from his. Unable to contain the butterflies that had reemerged in your stomach.

And instead of hating him, you found that you hated yourself.

You were pulled harshly out of your thoughts as his name rang across the camp from the large tent. “Arthur, son, I need to talk to you for a moment!” He jumped slightly, before letting out an irritated grumble and heading in the direction of the voice.

Swallowing hard, you turned again to look at your son, who had finally nibbled his way through an apple slice and was looking with interest at the other small boy who had just woken up across the camp. Abigail seemed to have taken notice of this and called for him, “Jack, why don’t you come over here and join us?”

The boy nodded eagerly and galloped over to his mother, climbing into her lap. “Morning, Mama!” he chimed, grinning wide and grabbing a slice of apple from the table. He looked the two of you over, before leaning into Abigail and whispering something in her ear.

She laughed lightly and introduced you and your son. “Maybe you can show him the chickens? What do you think?”

Jack nodded in excitement and hopped down to the ground. “Sure! I’ll show you my favorite! I call her Clucky, but no one else does,” he rambled. Ben, now significantly calmer and slightly excited at the prospect of a friend his age (or maybe he was excited about the chickens?) looked up at you for permission. You smiled at him and nodded, relief flooding you as he climbed off your lap and ran with the other boy to the edge of camp.

Kids were resilient, you knew that, but it still was heartbreaking to see your son so scared and confused.

“Thank you, Abigail,” you said after a moment, fiddling with a slice of apple that had been left on the table.

“It weren’t nothing,” she replied quickly, standing from her seat. “Now, I gotta go get some work done, but I’ll be ‘round in case you need anything.”

You nodded to her again as she walked away, before taking a moment to let out a long, exhausted sigh. What now?

The camp bustled around you; doing chores and talking amongst one another, largely ignoring your presence. They seemed friendly enough, but were obviously very busy. Across the camp, you could see Ben and Jack walking behind a chicken, trying to coax it into their arms.

A small smile graced your lips. It was good to see him spending time with children his age. Lord knew there weren’t many other children in Valentine he could socialise with, so this was a very nice change of pace.

After a few minutes, your eye was drawn back to the large tent in the center of camp as the front flap was drawn open. Arthur stepped out and held the canvas wide for two other men who followed him into the sunlight. The first, a man a few years older than Arthur with an ornate red vest and dark hair slicked back with pomade, gave you a quick glance before addressing his companions. “We will take care of Colm, I promise you,” he said, voice projecting over the campsite. “But you need to take her home, this camp ain’t no place for a child.”

“Now, Dutch,” cut in a second man, older and thinner than the first, with graying hair and an outfit that was likely once high quality. “We can’t forget about Jack. It may be good for him to have another child around. And we don’t know where Colm is, let alone if we can handle him at the moment. It would be more reasonable-”

“Hosea, you know as well as I do that we can’t afford another mouth to feed,” explained the first man, Dutch. “They seem like a lovely family, they do, and if something happens, I am truly sorry, but we need to look out for our own first.” At this, the older man raised his hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in a way that reminded you of Arthur.

“We can’t just leave them at Colm’s mercy. You know that, Dutch,” he continued, waving a hand in your general direction.

“And we won’t, Hosea,” Dutch cut in quickly, turning in your direction and making his way to the table. “Have a little faith, won’t you?” He reached you quickly, confidence radiating from each step before he sat down across from you and extended a hand. “Dutch van der Linde, good morning,” he introduced himself with the same sort of cocky air you had seen on plenty of businessmen visiting town. “This is Hosea, and of course you know Arthur.”

You reached for his hand and gave him your name, glancing at the two other men. Dutch’s handshake was firm, strong and slightly intimidating. Hosea seemed a bit frustrated, worried about the prospect of sending you home, while Arthur tried his best to keep his feelings at bay. “Thank you for letting me stay here last night,” you continued, pulling your hand back. “I don’t know what I would have done if Charles hadn’t been there…”

“Think nothing of it, my dear,” he continued before the other two men could speak. “Those men are monsters, I am just glad we were able to get to you in time.”

We? He hadn’t done anything.

“But in the meantime, this gives us a golden opportunity of sorts,” Dutch’s eyes lit up as began explaining his plan. “Now these were some of Colm O’Driscoll’s boys from what I’ve heard. Monsters, downright rotten, all of them. And with a taste for vengeance, I might add.” You looked from Dutch to Arthur and Hosea, who both seemed significantly less enthusiastic about this plan.

“From what I gather, they aren’t very fond of you right now, my dear. And I’d wager that they’ll come back for you if we give them the opportunity,” he explained, and your eyes narrowed.

What was he getting at? Was he really considering sending you back there to be kidnapped by people he, himself, had described as monsters? You paused for a moment, growing tense. “So, you want to use me…. and my five-year-old son… as bait?” you asked, slowly, words laced with venom.

Maybe Charles had made a mistake in saving you last night.

“You want to put us in danger so you can get… revenge? Or whatever it is that you want?” you continued, looking Dutch directly in the eyes.

He let out a loud laugh and leaned back in his chair, attempting to break the tension and smooth you over. “Now, now, that’s not it at all!” he chided, leaning back further and taking a cigar out of his vest pocket. He lit it and shook out the match with a flourish before continuing, “Rest assured you and your son would be safe the entire time! You can even leave him here until the deed is done!”

Lips pursed together and taking a deep breath through your nose, you let him continue. “We will send you back in a wagon with Arthur, who is our best sharpshooter, I might add. And we will have a few of my men follow behind you at a safe distance. Once Colm and his boys show up, we will take them out and you can go on living your life as you wish.”

“Dutch, I-”

“Damnit, Dutch-”

“Now, Hosea, Arthur, let the woman speak for herself.”

Hosea shut his mouth, frowning. He obviously wasn’t entirely happy with being sidelined by his friend. You looked over the three of them again. This was insane. Charles had saved your life, yes. They had been perfectly hospitable for one evening, yes. But you had no reason to risk your life for them so they could play at their little game of revenge. “And if I disagree?”

At that, Dutch’s charming smile turned into a grim frown. “Now, I’m afraid that ain’t an option, my dear,” he responded, leaning forward on his chair once more. “See, you can’t stay here. We simply don’t have the capacity for two more mouths.” He gestured around at the two-dozen or so men and women around camp.

“Dutch, I said-” started Arthur, before being cut off by the other man once more.

“And it would be unfortunate to send you home without a guard. Like I said, Colm’s boys are monsters…” Dutch trailed off, but you understood the implication perfectly. Colm’s boys are monsters, and you know exactly what they will do if they find you without protection.

“Now, be reasonable Dutch. We can’t send a woman and her child to their deaths,” Hosea scolded, to no avail. Dutch continued looking in your direction, waiting for a response.

“We won’t be sending them to their deaths, Hosea,” Dutch taunted, trying to make light of the situation. “We would be there to protect them. And if we get rid of Colm O’Driscoll in the meantime, then so be it.”

Hands clenched in front of your face, you could see your knuckles turn white as you tried to think of any other way out of this. You could leave on your own, but he was right that those men would probably catch up to you rather quickly. You could find someplace new - a cabin outside of town, perhaps - but you would be starting from next to nothing and had absolutely no idea how to go about that. You could use what little money you had and take the train to New York or Chicago or Saint Dennis… but then you would be left penniless and homeless in a new place.

By the time you had thought through the various scenarios, your jaw was shaking and you could feel the tears of frustration welling up in your eyes. This was all so stupid. You were stupid.

You should have known.

After Arthur, after everything, you should have known that your saving grace the previous evening would come at a cost.

These were not good people.

But, now, you didn’t have a choice. You were alive, Ben was alive, and you didn’t have a choice but to repay the people who had saved you. For your sake, for Ben’s sake, you would have to go along with this plan.

“Fine,” you spat, glaring at the man across the table. “But Ben stays here, at least until this is over… at least until it’s safe.”

Dutch clapped his hands together and leaned back in his chair again, blatantly ignoring your frustration. “That’s great to hear!” he said, his voice once again projected through the entire camp; a show of dominance. He let out a loud chuckle and stood from his seat, turning to the others, who were now paying attention. “Arthur, ready the wagon, we’ll leave within the hour. Bill, Charles, Javier, with me. We’ll finally take this bastard down!” he could hardly contain his mirth, rubbing his hands together and grinning as he walked back to his tent. Almost as an afterthought, he turned to you, “And we will get you and your boy home safe, of course.”

In that moment, you wanted to scream. You wanted to lunge at this strange man and tear his perfectly coiffed hair from his head. You were about to risk your life as payment for it being saved, and he was happy? He kept calling those men from last night monsters, but you were starting to think he may have been exactly the same.

Instead, you swallowed your fury and made your way to Ben and Jack. The two boys seemed to be completely unaware of the situation, the chickens having kept their attention through the entire thing. As you approached, the two of them had hold of one of the chickens, Clucky, you guessed, and were petting it lovingly as they fed it corn kernels from the palm of their hands and giggled.

You cleared your throat and plastered a smile on your face, hoping your fury wasn’t too obvious. “Ben, sweetheart?” you called. He looked up from the chicken, curls bouncing and a large grin illuminating his face.

“Mama! Look!” he responded, patting the chicken on its head. “This is Clucky! Me and Jack are gonna teach him to do a trick!”

Your laugh was less amused than it normally would have been, but it seemed to do the trick. “Oh, really? And what trick is that?”

“I’ve been trying to teach him to fly, but it didn’t work,” Jack explained, the poor chicken still clutched to his chest. “So, we thought if he can’t fly, maybe he can roll over.”

Drawing air through your nose, you let out a forced chuckle. “Well, I certainly have never seen a chicken do either of those things,” you responded, stepping closer to the two boys and kneeling on the ground, “I can’t wait to see the results.” The boys both giggled. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t I go fetch some things from the house, and we can stay another night. That way the two of you will have more time to work on Clucky’s new trick. What do you think?”

Apparently thrilled at the prospect, the boys nodded and shouted their agreement enthusiastically - terrifying the nearby chickens. Luckily, this seemed to have distracted them enough that they didn’t see your face fall as you pulled Ben to you and kissed the top of his head. “I love you, sweetheart,” you murmured into his curls before pulling away. With another deep breath and a forced smile, you looked him in the eyes. “I’ll be back soon.”

You only hoped that would be the truth.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #f!reader

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kaialone · 3 years

Text

Kirby Planet Robobot Translation Comparison: Meta Knightmare Returns

This will be a comparison of the original Japanese version and the US English localized version.

Specifically, this will cover all the cutscenes that appear in the Meta Knightmare Returns mode.

You can also watch these cutscenes for yourself in English (1, 2, 3) and Japanese (1, 2, 3).

For the comparison, the usual points apply:

Bolded is the original Japanese text, for the reference.

Bolded and italicized is my translation.

Italicized is the official NOA translation.

A (number) indicates that I have a specific comment to make on that part in the translation notes.

As you read this, please keep in mind that with translations like these, it’s important not to focus on the exact literal wordings, since there is no single “correct answer” when it comes to translations.

Rather than that, consider the actual information that is being conveyed, in which way, and why.

Encountering Star Dream:

Star Dream:

……R…E…A…… ……D…Y……………・＞

...R...E...A... ...D...Y... ->

L...O...A...D...I...N...G...

Star Dream:

……………………。

...

.........

Star Dream:

アナタが…新しい… ゴシュジン様…デスネ。

YOU must BE... the new... MASter.

You must be... the new admin.

Star Dream:

……ナルホド、とてもツヨイパワーをお持ちのヨウデ…。

...UNDERSTOOD, it APPEARS that you possess quite TREMENDOUS POWER...

Yes. You possess incredible power...

Star Dream:

……………… OK＞

...OK >

...OK.

Star Dream:

…デハ、ソンナゴシュジン様ガノゾム…

...THEN, AS SUCH A MASter WOULD DESIRE...

As a new admin, you must supply your credentials...

Star Dream:

コノ星でも… カナリの強サを持つ…

YOU SHALL be given... THE OPPORTUNITY TO CLASH with a "sword USER"...

to the strongest warriors of this planet.

Star Dream:

「剣のツカイテ」と、タタカワセテ…さしあげマショウ。

WHO possesses CONSIDERABLE strenGTH... even for THIS planet.

Executing Sword_Master.EXE.

Before Battling Sectonia Clone:

Star Dream:

……おみごとデ、ゴザイマス。

...MasterFULLY DONE.

...Impressive.

Star Dream:

ゴシュジン様にはショウショウモノたりナカッタかもしれマセンネ。

Perhaps THIS was A LITTLE UNsatisfactory for you, MASter.

That may have been a bit too easy for the admin...

Star Dream:

ソレでは次に、美シクまうようニ剣をアヤツる…

SO then, for THE next one, the most powerful queen...

Next up is one whose swordplay resembles a beautiful dance...

Star Dream:

最強の女王を、ヨミガエらせマショウ。

WHO HANDles her blades liKE A beautiFUL dance, shall BE RESURRECTED.

Let us bring back the most powerful queen from the void.

Star Dream:

ソノたぐいまれな戦いのセンスと王たるオーラ…

HER exceptional APTITUDE for battle, and her majestic AURA...

Experience her royal presence and unparalleled fighting skills.

Star Dream:

ドウゾゴたんのうクダサイませ。

PLEASE, ENjoy them thoroUGHLY.

She will be a fitting test for you.

Before Battling Galacta Knight:

Star Dream:

サスガ、ゴシュジン様デス。ではサイゴに…

WELL DONE AS ALWAYS, MASter. Now, FOR THE LAST one...

You are mighty indeed. Now for the final test...

Star Dream:

かつてのゴシュジン様にハキンジられてイタ…

THE "Spacetime Transfer Programm", WHICH the previous MASter had FORBIDDEN...

This was prohibited by the previous admin...

Star Dream:

「時空テンイプログラム」をアンロックシ、

SHALL BE UNLOCKED,

Preparing to boot the Space-Time Transport program...

Star Dream:

イニシエの時代ノ剣士ヲ、ヨビダシマショウ。

TO CALL FORTH A swordfighter from ANCIENT TIMES.

Let us bring back a legendary swordsman from a forgotten time.

Star Dream:

…カレにコノあたりノ星ハホロボされてシマウと思イマスガ…

...IT STANDS TO reason that HE is LIKELY TO DESTroy the SURrounding planets, BUT...

He may end up destroying a nearby planet or two, but such is life.

Star Dream:

キット、サイゴノタタカイを楽シンデイタダケルことデショウ。

You will MOST CERTAINLY find THIS LAST BATTLE to be enjoyABLE.

The benefits of this final battle outweigh the collateral damage.

Star Dream:

ソレでは………！

NOW then...!

Prepare yourself...

Star Dream:

時空テンイプログラム… アンロック… 異空間ロード… リブート…

UNLOCKING... Space Time Transfer Program... REBOOTING... Another Dimension Road... (1)

Executing Space-Time Transport... Extra-dimensional road... Booting...

Star Dream:

…………３

3...

Star Dream:

…………２

2...

Star Dream:

………��１

1...

Star Dream:

…………………GO!!

...GO!!

...BEGIN!

Translation Note:

I’ll go over it in more detail in the section below, but the term I translated as “Another Dimension Road” is called 異空間ロード/Ikūkan Rōdo in Japanese. This term previously appeared in the Japanese version of Kirby’s Return to Dream Land.

Comparisons & Thoughts:

Since the cutscenes of Meta Knightmare Returns all occur towards the end and are pretty short, I decided to cover all of them in one post like this.

Still, just because they’re short doesn’t mean there is nothing to talk about.

It’s only mentioned briefly in these cutscenes, but I want to go over the term I adapted as “Another Dimension Road” in slightly more detail.

In the original Japanese version, the term is 異空間ロード/Ikūkan Rōdo, which first appeared in the Japanese version of Kirby’s Return to Dream Land.

To start off, 異空間/Ikūkan by itself could be translated as something like “different dimension", “different space”, “different realm”, or anything along those lines, 異/i meaning “different”, and 空間/kūkan meaning “space” or “dimension”, and the like.

This term has come up a few times in the Kirby series since Return to Dream Land, and the Japanese version of Star Allies actually gives it the English reading “Another Dimension”, which is why I also like to adapt it as that.

The term 異空間ロード/Ikūkan Rōdo, adding the English word “road” to it, also comes up a few times in Return to Dream Land.

Given what I explained above, I like to adapt it as “Another Dimension Road”.

Magolor mentions this term when he talks about his home, saying that it’s far away, but that it’s connected to Pop Star via 異空間ロード/Ikūkan Rōdo.

The English localization of the game adapted this as “interdimensional tunnel” in this instance.

Also, the cutscene that is called “Final Battle” in the English version is simply called 異空間ロード/Ikūkan Rōdo in Japanese.

Going by that, it seems safe to assume that this term can refer to the “road(s)” that connects different dimensions, realms, or the like.

Now, there is a lot more I could potentially talk about with these two terms and how they come up in the Kirby series, but it would be too long for this section here.

I might make a dedicated post just for that at some point, if that would interest people.

So, most relevant to Planet Robobot, is the fact that “Another Dimension Road” is a term we had seen before in Return to Dream Land.

The English version might be trying to keep the connection to Return to Dream Land by adapting the term as “Extra-dimensional road“ here, possibly referring to the Extra Mode of that game.

Back to Planet Robobot, here’s something potentially interesting about Star Dream in these cutscenes.

You’ll find that in both Japanese and English it uses about the same speaking style as it did during its appearance in the main story.

And the English version actually adapts it in the same way as it did back then, so I appreciate the consistency there.

Like before, the English version has it use some more computer-like sounding phrases here, like saying “admin” instead of “master”.

Most notable as a change is probably the phrase “Sword_Master.EXE”, which would imply that Star Dream might have a dedicated program just for either cloning Dark Matter Blade, or sword users in general.

But what’s really interesting to me is something else.

Now, I don’t know if this is just a coincidence, but Star Dream does not refer to itself in first person at any point in these cutscenes

With the way the Japanese language works, this isn’t all too uncommon, but it still stands out a bit, because Star Dream referring to itself in first person during the main story was a notable trait it had.

A machine wouldn’t normally refer to itself like that, so Star Dream doing that seemed like a result of it gaining a sense of self during those events.

And keep in mind that those events, namely Star Dream fusing with Hatlmann’s spirit, don’t actually occur during the story of Meta Knightmare, meaning Star Dream actually should not have a sense of self in this scenario.

So, Star Dream not referring to itself in first person during these cutscenes could be meant to reflect that? But that’s just my guess.

In any case, because of the above, I decided to adapt its dialogue in these cutscenes without using any first person either.

And from what I can tell, it looks like the English localization may have thought the same thing, since they also don’t use any (singular) first person for Star Dream here.

I realize this means there isn’t any difference between versions when it comes to this aspect, but I still wanted to mention it, because it’s easy to miss.

In the Japanese version, Star Dream’s dialogue here contains more direct references to Milky Way Wishes, with it using several of the same phrases that Galactic Nova used.

Most notably, this includes it counting down from 3 and finishing the counter with the words “Go!!”, which is also referenced during its boss battles.

In the English version, these phrases are slightly rewritten and don’t match Galactic Nova’s dialogue from either English version of Milky Way Wishes, with the countdown in particular ending with “Begin!” instead.

As a result, that final line also no longer matches the visuals of Star Dream’s final boss battle.

If you only look at the text in this game right here, it does make sense to rewrite these phrases slightly, “Begin!” certainly sounds more appropriate than “Go!!” out of context.

But this, combined with the fact that any other subtle reference to Milky Way Wishes in the text so far has been glossed over in English makes me think that the English localizers either didn’t realize that these were references, or ended up ignoring them for some reason.

Whatever said reason may be, I still think it’s a shame, because when you add all of them up, there is a great deal of connections to Milky Way Wishes in this game’s text that are lost in the English version, leaving it only with the visual and musical references.

And those are still nice, don’t get me wrong, but it still feels like you’re missing out just a little.

Somewhat related to the above, Star Dream’s reasoning for its actions in these cutscenes is quite different between versions, changing a lot about the context of what is happening.

In the Japanese version, Star Dream seemingly comes to the conclusion that Meta Knight wishes to fight strong opponents. So, the reason why it proceeds to summon several powerful warriors is specifically because it is attempting to comply with that desire.

And that really seems to be all there is to it in the Japanese version, no apparent additional motivation other than to satisfy its new master Meta Knight.

At most you can speculate whether or not Meta Knight really was actively wishing for this to happen, or if Star Dream was misinterpreting him, but...

Considering this is a direct parallel to Meta Knightmare Ultra, and Meta Knight did wish for something exactly like that over there, I’d wager it’s safe to bet Star Dream’s assessment of him was at least partially accurate.

And of course, this also gives Star Dream another direct parallel to Galactic Nova.

In the English version, Star Dream instead states that Meta Knight has to supply his credentials, and thus all the battles that follow are portrayed as “tests” for Meta Knight.

This also implies that Star Dream would probably test any potential new admin in such a manner, in contrast to the Japanese version, where Star Dream seems to accept Meta Knight right away without question.

I know that this particular change has caused English-speaking fans to speculate what sort of test Haltmann may have had to pass, which can be interesting of course.

But for the reference, no such tests seem to exist in the Japanese version.

And still related to the above, in the English version, Star Dream states that Meta Knight must supply his credentials “to the strongest warriors of this planet”, which might even be a small translation error?

Because in the Japanese version, Star Dream only states that Meta Knight will have the opportunity to “CLASH with a sword USER… WHO possesses CONSIDERABLE strenGTH… even for THIS planet”, so that latter part is only referring to the clone of Dark Matter Blade.

There is no clear plural in Japanese, so one could interpret the Japanese line as referring to all three warriors that Star Dream ends up summoning, but since it gives a little introduction for Sectonia Clone and Galacta Knight, I think it’s more likely this line right here was just its introduction for Dark Matter Clone.

The English phrasing also makes you wonder why Star Dream would even summon Galacta Knight, who’s not taken from this planet, or even this era for that matter.

It just kinda doesn’t add up when you think about it more.

And that’s about it for these cutscenes.

The most notable change is the completely different reasoning behind Star Dream’s action here.

I personally feel it gives this entire ending scenario a different vibe, and potentially the implication of what Meta Knight’s role in it is, considering the parallels to Meta Knightmare Ultra.

With that, we have covered all of the cutscenes of Kirby: Planet Robobot, but we are not done quite yet.

There is still more story to this game, so for the next part, we will start tackling the pause screen descriptions of the boss fights!

Feel free to check it out!

< Previous Part | Start | Next Part >

#kirby #kirby of the stars #kirby planet robobot #planet robobot #kirby translations #my translations #planet robobot translation comparisons #kirby planet robobot spoilers #planet robobot spoilers #robobot spoilers

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blessedboo · 4 years

Text

Need [Pipe Down #2] | Oscar Diaz.

Oscar Diaz x Reader

Summary: You were supposed to get out of your post-breakup blues, but a certain someone clouded your mind all day. You decided to do something about it.

Requested: Yes (Thank you, my loves!)

Warnings: Cursing. Angst to fluff - fluff to smut (18+ Content) and then some more fluff.

Word Count: 4.6K

A/N: The reactions to Pipe Down were incredible. Y’all are so supportive, and fucking hilarious as well. This is my first time writing smut, so I apologize if it’s not that great; feedback is always appreciated. I hope you enjoy reading this sequel, it’s dedicated to all of you. Love ya!

You and Izzy were walking arm in arm back to her car, chatting, laughing. Times like these made you feel grateful to have her in your life, someone you could always count on to be there for you and lift your spirits. Honestly, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself without your homegirl.

The laughter died down as you both sighed and continued walking in comfortable silence. You felt her eyes on you as she turned her head to face yours. She waited a few seconds before saying something, almost as if she was trying to read your thoughts.

“Alright, love. Be real with me now, are you sure you’re okay?”

You turned to face her and gave her a reassuring smile. “Of course, why?”

“You just seemed a little off back there. You’re usually downing mimosas with me by the minute, but instead you were staring off into space.” She paused for a second after saying that, abruptly stopping both of you in your tracks.

Her eyes widened as she side-eyed you, “Shiiit, you aren’t pregnant, are you?”

Your jaw dropped for a moment, shortly turning into a laugh as your head tipped back, shocked by her assumption.

“Girl, no. I do not have a baby in me. And if I did, trust me, you’d be the first one to know.”

“Well, my bad then,” she giggled.

After eventually getting in the car, Izzy thought it’d be nice to put the roof down, convertible style. Today’s light breeze and warm sun did you favors as your skin glowed and your hair flowed. You raised your arm up in the air, the brisk wind gently dancing around it as you jammed out to Brent Faiyaz, H.E.R and other R&B favorites.

You and Izzy sang simultaneously, screeching at the top of your lungs when it came to those high notes. It didn’t matter if it was good, it was a vibe.

Soon enough, the car began to approach your neighborhood. Izzy turned to you, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

“Wellll, where am I dropping you off to?”

”Where else? Home, babes,” you let out a small laugh and nudged her elbow for asking you that question.

“Mm, I know. But which one? Yours or your baby daddy’s?” She bit her lip and winked at you. “If you get what I mean ...”

Izzy knowingly wiggled her brows up and down, tongue in cheek. Your brows furrowed slightly as you shook your head at her, unsure of what she was implying.

It took you a good three seconds but Izzy knew you got the message when your eyes widened, rolling to the back of your head. She cheekily snickered at you as you did.

You gave her an unamused look and pinched the bridge of your nose, realizing she was referring to Oscar. And not just ‘Oscar,’ she referred to him as your “baby daddy”. Oh please, as if you’d ever let his fine ass him knock you up.

Would I?

You knew she was only teasing, but what she said started getting to you. It made you overthink and you didn’t like it.

“You know damn well he is not my baby daddy, nor will he ever be. We’re over, Iz - we have been for two weeks, you know that.”

She kissed her teeth and raised an eyebrow at you, dismissing your comment, or what she knew as your lies. She always saw right through you, you couldn’t fake anything with her even if you tried.

“Bitch,” she retorted with an annoyed inflection in her tone, “you can’t fool me. I put two and two together when I saw how you acted at brunch. No wonder, Spooky got you all in your feelings, and I’m sure it has something to do with whatever happened between you two this morning.”

“I-“

You were immediately cut off by her. Yeah, she definitely wasn’t done scolding you.

“You’re lucky I saved your ass from saying something stupid.”

You had a mini-flashback to the moment you and Oscar shared right before she picked you up. You remembered how vulnerable you got in his arms, ready to spill all the pain you’d been feeling. You didn’t notice you started to slouch, or the frown that appeared on your face just then. But Izzy did.

She looked away to gather her thoughts before turning back to you, lips pulled to one side as she gave you an empathetic look. She grabbed your hand and clasped her fingers over it to comfort you.

“You miss him, huh?”

You couldn’t lie to her or yourself anymore. You sighed, “I’m angry at him. I’m upset with him—“

“But ...” Izzy added.

“—But I do miss him.” You groaned as you tipped your head back into the seat. You really missed him, and that longing feeling to be close to Oscar again was eating you up inside.

Longing for him to eat me up instead.

“Told ya,” Izzy smirked triumphantly, you scowled back at her in return.

“Not now, dumb ass.”

She chuckled before continuing the drive to your block.

—

“Alright, we’re here.”

The rest of the drive was silent, so deep in your daydream that you completely shut yourself off from your surroundings.

You looked at the house she parked at, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Iz, you’re a good couple of houses away from mine. We aren’t even on the right side of the street, this is Osca-“

You blinked once.

Twice.

Thrice.

“Izzy.”

She was looking down to avoid eye contact, but still smiling ever so mischievously.

“Okay, don’t be mad, but—“

“IZ-“

“—BUT! I really think you should talk to him. You clearly aren’t over him, he probably isn’t over you. Both of you should stop being so stubborn, keep pride out of this, and have yourselves some bomb ass makeup sex.”

You whipped your head towards her, eyes bulging at the last remark.

“What? No sex? That’s cool too, that’s cool too. Maybe that’s just me then.”

You tried your best to stay annoyed at her, but you couldn’t help it. Your lips pulled into a smile as you admired your best friend. You let out a small chuckle before undoing your seat belt.

“I hate you.”

She grinned, “I know, I love you too.”

Izzy pulled you into a hug before you opened the car door and got out. You walked around, but she called out from behind as soon as you approached the lawn.

“Hey, wait!”

You spun your head around to look at her, forehead wrinkled as a questioning gesture.

“Go get ‘em, tiger!” She exclaimed as she pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, closed her fists, and did a back-and-forth pumping gesture with both arms at her sides to signal fucking.

Cheeks turning red, you palmed your face embarrassedly, “Oh God, please stop.”

Man, you really loved her.

You waved her off as she laughed, hurriedly making your way to Oscar’s front door before anyone saw that atrocity.

Here you were again for the second time today. Damn, he got you fucked up.

All that readiness you had a minute ago washed away, now being encompassed by anxiousness and self-doubt. Great, your favorite duo of terror.

Am I being too desperate?

This is a bad idea.

No, I love him. Just do it, coward.

At last, you raised your hand to the dreaded large plank of wood you stood in front of. “It’s now or never.”

One knock. Two knocks. And a third.

He’s fucking that blonde chick.

Abort mission.

Mayday! Mayda-

“Y/N ... Back so soon?” A shirtless Oscar leaned up against the doorframe, bright-eyed and flashing that sexy smirk.

In any other instance, you’d retort with a witty remark, fire back with some sass.

But this wasn’t any other instance.

You were hurting, and you were tired. You were tired of the lonely nights, tired of these mind games, tired of bottling it all up. Oscar took notice of your silence and the blank, but sad, expression on your face. He sensed something was wrong. He knew because he felt that way too. Regretting what he said, his features softened. His eyes drooped whilst muscles relaxed as he reached his arms out to you.

There were a million reasons to turn back around and run for the hills. Could you trust him not to break your heart again? Could you guarantee that everything will work out from that point on?

The truth is, you didn’t know.

But if there was anything you did know, it’s that if you ran now, you may never get this chance again.

You were hesitant, but you stepped forward and gently placed a hand on his upper arm; a silent invite for him to embrace you. The corner of his lips curved into a small, sad smile. Neither of you had to speak to be able to empathize with each other. You felt each other’s everything.

Pain. Frustration. Happiness. And everything in between.

That was the beauty of your relationship.

He lead you inside before wrapping his strong arms around you, pulling you into a tight, but tender, hug. The warmth of his bare body engulfed your entire being. Your hands followed suit as you moved them under his arms and clasped them onto each shoulder, your face tilted to fit like a puzzle piece in the crook of his tattooed neck.

You basked in each other’s silence as the comfort washed over you. It was dead-quiet in the house, and all you could hear were Oscar’s gentle breaths as he inhaled and exhaled on the tops of your cheeks. Along with the soft thumping of his heartbeat as he relaxed into you more and more as the moment went by.

As much as you appreciated the embrace, there were still probing thoughts that lingered in the back of your mind. You had questions and you needed answers.

“Oscar?”

“Hm?”

“Couch.”

“Okay.”

Removing yourselves from each other, you made your way into his living room. You sat side-by-side, not as close as a few seconds ago, but close enough to reach out for him just in case you needed to beat his ass.

You took a deep breath in before letting out a sigh that sounded like it was hidden in the depths of your body.

“You told me you were too busy to be with me. That you needed space. That it wasn’t the best time to be in a relationship, and that we weren’t right for each other anyway. Too different.”

“I know, I-“

“But earlier you tell me you miss me. A lot, might I add. How do you think that makes me feel? That’s frustrating and confusing as fuck, Oscar!”

“Y/N, I know. I fucked up. I fucked up big time. I knew I fucked up on that first night I spent without you. I was wrong, so goddamn wrong, and I hated myself for it.”

“So then why say it? Why, Oscar? We were doing so well, and then you drop the breakup bomb out of nowhere. And if you regretted it so much, why not talk to me the day after instead of ignoring me?”

“Because—“ He paused as he looked away. His open, expressive hands closing into a fist as he rubbed his thumb against the side of his index finger. This was a habit of his whenever he was anxious, annoyed, or anything of the sort. His nostrils flared as his eyebrows knitted together, lips curving downwards into a frown. You watched his actions intently, the battle he had with himself, his internal conflict, playing out in front of your eyes.

He sighed, “because I knew you’d be better off without me - in more ways than one. I’m a liability, nena. I bring more harm than good, to you and to Cesar.”

“—And with all that shit that went down with Cuchillos, I didn’t want you standing in the middle of the crossfire. I couldn’t risk anything happening to you, so I pushed you away. So yes, I did need my space to handle my shit without you, and yes, I was too busy … too busy to give you the attention we both needed. But I never stopped loving you, I just wanted to protect you.”

Oscar’s breathing was heavy as he closed his eyes, lids tucking in tightly after the release of this built-up resentment.

My baby was protecting me, and he was hurting in the process.

Lightning struck you at the center of your heart and made it shatter into a million broken fragments. Or at least that’s what it felt like. You ached for him. You always did knowing the life he was living, but now more than ever. Your eyes welled up with tears, your head dropping down.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t fix what I did, but I pro-“

You cut him off by clasping one hand over his nape, and another on the side of his face as you pulled him into a soft, sweet kiss. You didn’t do it out of pity. You didn’t do it to shut him up. You did it to reassure him, to calm his mind, to ease his blessed heart.

Prior to the two weeks of isolation, you were Oscar’s peace, and he yours. In a time he needed it most, he lost his peace, his only form of solace.

To say you felt bad was an understatement.

Your plump lips danced against his own. It was a tango of love and war. Longing, yet laced in suffering. The kiss was slow and sensual as the two lovers rekindled the flame that never truly died out. Beneath all that tenderness, both of your lips still fought for dominance.

To claim the upper hand, he grabbed onto your waist and propped you onto his lap. With the close proximity of your rhythmically moving bodies, you inhaled deeply as the aroma of beer, cologne and cigarettes tickled your nose. The smell was intoxicating, pure bliss, and only he could pull it off.

There were other things only he could pull off, like my clothes perhaps.

You could sense Oscar’s patience quickly dissipating with each taste of your soft, moist kisses. He couldn’t get enough of them, and two weeks away from them were two weeks too long. He lolled helplessly with his eyes clenched shut, in a trance of tongue.

As the kiss got more heated, a sweet moan erupted from your throat. You were soaking up every ounce of loving he was giving you, hypnotized by the way he held you, felt you, caressed you. Oscar smiled against your lips as a result, bringing his hand up to the back of your head as his fingers tangled and intertwined with your locks to deepen his motions.

You started to feel overwhelmed—in the best way possible—but he was, quite literally, taking your breath away. You unlatched your lips from his, both of you gasping for air simultaneously. You stared into each other’s eyes that glistened with lust and adoration. From the way you two were moving, you would’ve thought you had been away from each other for months. But that only seemed to prove the immense need and want for one another.

You stared at his now swollen, red, wet lips and giggled. He joined, chuckling as he saw your own, clearly enthusiastic at what he’d done to you. As he did, he brought a thumb up to wipe over your tear-stained cheeks.

“So ... does that mean I’m forgiven?” He asked sporting a cheeky, lopsided grin.

You licked your lips as you sat up on your knees, his thigh in between your legs whilst towering over him. Mindlessly, he ran his hands up your waist and down your hips, groping your thighs here and there ever so slightly.

“Hm,” you bit your fingernail pensively. Your eyes darkened with mischief as you thought of other ways he’d be able to make it up to you. You glared at him, biting your lip, “how badly do you miss me, baby?”

He smirked at your sudden burst of sexual prowess. “Badly, mamí.”

“Mm, what are you willing to do?”

“Anything.”

“Prove it. Prove that you missed me.” You coaxed, lust and desire laced your soft spoken voice.

And that was all he needed for him to unzip your shorts at a tantalizing pace, never breaking eye contact with you as he did. Maybe you deserved a little bit of teasing for the petty ‘mission’ you pulled earlier. You shimmied out of them impatiently, and he laughed at your attempt to hurry.

“What are you in a rush for, mamas? I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you,” he reassured you as he cupped your face before placing a small, chaste kiss on your lips.

You sighed, nodding your head. Your body relaxed as you lowered yourself onto his lap again.

“You’re right. Do your thing, my love.”

He pecked your cheek, your nose, the corner of your mouth and peppered light kisses along your jawline. You loved how romantic he was before devouring you or fucking you senseless - such a deliciously dynamic man.

He lifted your chin up to tilt your head back, giving him more access to the soft skin of your neck. Needless to say, you weren’t expecting his lips to brush up against the sensitive area below your ear as he licked you with a long, single swipe of his tongue.

Goodbye, Mr. Romantic and hello, Daddy.

He nipped and sucked, and nipped and sucked. Hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing all around your neck and down to your collarbone as one hand was wrapped gently, yet firmly, around your throat, right under your chin to hold it up. Your breaths were shaky, light moans rolled off your lips naturally, and a very apparent pool formed in your black lace panties.

Oscar unwrapped the knot of your top, letting the sleeves fall down your arms. His fingers slid on your smooth skin as he took it off completely.

“Damn, baby,” he whispered as he wishfully gazed at your breasts, passion shadowing over him. You placed your hands on his chest, nails lightly scratching the bare skin as you dragged them down. His lips parted in response, his excited heartbeats could be felt under your fingertips. From the heavy breathing to the glossy beads of sweat that glistened on his tanned skin, the atmosphere of the room got dense - air heavy, sexual tension thick.

With an expert flick of his fingers, your bra was on the floor in a matter of seconds. Oscar’s big hands were on your waist and back, ensuring there was no way to escape. Not that you wanted to be anywhere else anyway.

He wasted no time latching onto your right nipple, cupping your plump assets as he groped and squeezed teasingly. His tongue danced fluently over the swell of your breast, evoking a porn-worthy moan that reverberated against the four walls of the small room. The wet sensation combined with the tantalizingly sensual circular motions were heavenly.

“Oh God,” you whimpered breathlessly. Though, it would be best if you kept God out of your sexual endeavours.

Oscar didn’t forget about your left nipple as he alternated between pinching, tugging and rolling it in between his index and thumb. He brought his hand to his mouth, licking his two digits and then continuing his actions.

How considerate of him, you thought. He wanted to give both of your eager breasts the same type of attention, cute.

As you ground your hips against his thigh, subtly getting off from the pressure hitting your core, he felt the moistness that started to coat the thin fabric and your inner thighs. Your nipple left the warmth of his mouth and was now encompassed by the cool air. You shivered at the new sensation, instantly missing the feel of his lips as you pouted.

Smirking, he looked down, catching you in the act of your mini joyride.

“Naughty.”

You giggled, “Maybe a little.”

He hummed amusingly before gently pushing your chest backwards so that you could lay down flat on the couch. He crawled to hover over you, letting out a groan as he bit his lip and took in your current state. The woman he cherished was sprawled half-naked on the couch, swollen breasts rising up and down, looking up at him with big love-hazed eyes and plump pouty lips as you waited for him to please you.

In his eyes, it was the most angelic sight. You loved the way he looked at you as if you were the center of his universe. You smiled at him, following with a wink.

His face inched closer to yours as he gave you a sweet kiss before planting many of them on a trail from your neck, to the valley in between your breasts, and finally to the awaited destination.

He looked up at you through his gorgeous, long lashes. He kept that hungry glare pointed on you as he hooked his fingers into your waistband, dragging them down swiftly. Your stomach fluttered in anticipation. If it was even possible, your arousal got more wet at the thought of his mouth on your pussy. You wanted him so bad, it was painful.

“Please,” you pleaded. “I need you.”

That breathy whimper set him off. He didn't bother teasing the surrounding area as usual. He was starving, and he was gon’ feast like his life depended on it.

As he lowered himself, the cold metal of his cross grazed your lips. You jumped at the stinging chill, a sensation that amplified tenfold due to the already aching area.

He ran two fingers up and down your soaking slit, spreading the two lips, then rubbing them closer together, and repeating. As his fingers occasionally brushed along your swollen clit, your thighs would involuntarily clench at the sensitivity. He followed your body’s requests by rubbing the bud in gentle circles, applying just enough pressure to stimulate you. He would press down on it every now and then, which would really get you going.

At this point, you were already a whimpering mess for him and he loved it.

“You want more, nena?”

Unable to comprehend any words, you simply nodded. Now tugging and rolling at your throbbing bundle of nerves, “No no, I want you to tell me. Let me hear that voice.”

“Yes,” you whispered, “… M-more,” was all you managed to get out in a broken moan.

Oscar gripped your thighs as he dropped his head down to your core. You were immediately met with a long lick that flattened against your entrance, from bottom to top. You gasped at the moist feeling of his velvet tongue combined with the warm breaths that lingered on your skin.

He spread your legs wider and pushed your thighs back, allowing more access for him to hit all the right spots. His lips smothered your pussy with sloppy, deep kisses.

He was french-kissing the fuck out of your core, and your endless cries only encouraged him to keep going.

His tongue curled up to flick your clit rapidly before easing your pleasure with soft circular motions. Not wanting to lose his rhythm, he closed in on your pearl, sucking on it tenderly as his fingers wandered in between your folds.

“Oh Daddy… Fuck yeah,” you hissed.

“Mm, you like that?” He groaned.

“Yes! Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” were only some of the obscenities that rolled off your tongue.

Well, his tongue was doing most of the rolling.

Your pussy was throbbing, aching for release. Breathless, you propped yourself up on one arm to get a glimpse of the action. Your fluids flowed out of you - it was ‘The Y/N River’ down there. They coated your walls, Oscar’s beard and definitely drenched the couch material under you.

But he didn’t mind one bit. In fact, it drove him wild. He lapped up your juices in quick, yet deliberate, movements of his tongue.

Feeling him do it was pleasurable enough, but watching his determination play out on your sex was a whole new level of sexy, and eventually brought you closer to release. Your back arched, your hips bucked and you were a moaning disaster.

“Fuck! Fuuuck! Baby … I- … Ah, shit! … I’m g-gonna come. Just like that, yes. Yes!”

Your orgasm was bubbling at the pit of your stomach. You were so close.

“Fuck. Come. Come for me, mamí.”

His mouth attacked your pussy greedily, fingers doing quick work of rubbing your folds in ‘figure eights’. He used two of his digits to spread your folds as he tongue-fucked you. One of your hands held onto the back of his scalp, while the nails of the other dug into his broad shoulder so deeply you were scared to puncture skin.

Him egging you on and praising you nonstop was the last straw. He grumbled against your soaked core as your thighs clenched together. His name left your lips in a cry, over and over.

Like a chant, or more so a prayer.

You shook and shuddered uncontrollably during your throes of passion, your back landing onto the couch from the euphoric exhaustion. Your head tipped back in ecstasy as he cupped your core gently, hushing you into a state of ease.

Your breaths became less heavy as seconds passed by. You sighed before slightly turning your head upwards, only to catch your man staring at you intently. A big ol’ cheesy grin plastered on his gorgeous face.

“Beautiful,” he hummed.

You shook your head, laughing at his cuteness.

When your legs somewhat regained their strength, you sat up and clung onto his torso. The both of you laid back upright on the couch. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder to bring you closer. Placing a hand on his chest, the beats of his heart drummed for you.

You smiled, and as if you communicated telepathically, you both looked at each other like lovestruck puppies.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Oscar.”

“Pase lo que pase?”

“Pase lo que pase.”

You cupped his cheek as your two lips connected. A sweet kiss to seal the deal.

“So what are we going to do about this?” He asked, gesturing towards the obvious tent in his pants. You rolled your eyes, not being able to resist a small laugh. “You always have to ruin the mood, hm?”

“What? I’ve got needs too, Y/N.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not letting you get off that easy. You’ve gotta work for it.” If looks could kill; he death-stared you down as his brows knitted together. “Eating you out ain’t enough?”

“Oh baby, no. That makes up for at least a week's worth. Cook me breakfast tomorrow, and you’ll be on the right path.”

He squinted at you unamusedly, along with slightly flared nostrils and lips pulled a straight line. “Seriously?”

“Very serious,” you raised your brow at him, sporting a cheeky smirk.

He groaned while running a palm over his face, an eye roll on display right after. “Fine. So spoilt.”

“Keep that attitude up, boy. I’ll have you sleeping on the couch too.”

He scoffed as his forehead wrinkled in disbelief. He bit down on his bottom lip as he shook his head at you. It wasn’t long before he was towering over you, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you over his shoulder - ass out, facing skyward.

You gasped before squealing as you smacked your hands against his back.

“What are you doing?! Let me down!”

“Nah. I make you come, and all of a sudden you’re bossing me around in my own house,” he retorted while sending a nice slap against your ass. “Must be out yo’ damn mind.”

Your bickering continued all the way into the bedroom. It was an evening of love and laughter, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

____________________________________________

Spanish translations - [Correct me if I’m wrong]

Pase lo que pase - No matter what / Whatever happens

#oscar diaz #spooky diaz #oscar diaz x reader #spooky diaz x reader #oscar diaz imagine #spooky diaz imagine #on my block #omb #omb imagine #omb fanfic #oscar diaz fanfic #julio macias #x reader #x black!reader #x poc!reader #spooky diaz smut #oscar diaz smut

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suzuki-violin-school · 3 years

Text

Angels - Katsuki Bakugo

Club Venus prompts 4 and 9: “Let’s run away together.” “So I was going through your stuff and found this.”

Masterlist

Content: angels/demons AU, obsessive!bakugo, fem!reader, stealing, wingman kirishima, yandere if you squint

Y/n and Bakugo were both the secretive type. Plenty of angels or demons were. Some people wore their identities on their sleeves, open to the world and announcing their true self. Some people kept to themselves, blending in with normal society or simply not caring. In that sense, it was difficult to tell if someone was a human, or an angel, or a demon.

Some people went to ridiculous extremes to find out what someone else was.

Bakugo, while he didn’t cherish the idea of people knowing what he was, was one of those people. He didn’t like not knowing who was around him. He didn’t like not knowing things in general.

He’d found out that Uraraka was an angel- That wasn’t much of a surprise. Tokoyami was, too. Mineta was very vocal about being a demon. Aoyama bragged about being an angel. He’d thought that Ashido would be a demon, but after a little bit of prodding and prying and, okay, maybe some invasion of privacy, she’d turned out to be a normal person.

Her pink skin was misleading.

He’d also done some snooping around Jirou, Shoji, Todoroki, and Hagakure, but none of them had been anything unusual. Kirishima was also fairly private about it, but he’d told Bakugo he was a demon once they were close friends. Bakugo had yet to tell anyone.

He was most interested in Y/n, though. She was good friends with Uraraka and Tokoyami, and she was pretty friendly towards Aoyama even though they didn’t speak too often. She also hung out with Yaoyorozu, who he suspected was also an angel.

Y/n was kind. Her voice wasn’t too piercing or screechy, so he disliked it less than others. She always got out of his way when he passed her in the halls without him having to yell at her, too. If he ever told her to shut up, she’d pause for a moment, but then stop talking, instead focusing her attention on something else.

All he wanted was for her to finally come clean and be revealed as an angel.

...As his angel.

The bell rang loudly, pulling Bakugo from his thoughts. He glanced over at Y/n, getting up out of her seat quickly to join Uraraka at hers. She looked so happy as she started talking with her and Asui, Ashido and Sero joining the conversation moments after.

“Hey, Bakugo! ...Woah, somethin’ the matter, man? You look so serious!”

“Shut up, shitty hair,” Bakugo grumbled, standing up a little too quickly. His chair screeched against the floor, burning his eardrums. He growled lowly to himself as he grabbed his things and left the classroom, Kirishima following him closely.

“Dude, what’s up?” Kirishima asked again. “That’s the face of a man with a problem!”

“I don’t have any problems!” Bakugo said defensively. Kirishima raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Is this about Y/n again?” He asked. Bakugo glared at him.

“...Maybe.”

“Bro, just ask her!” Kirishima said, grinning and slugging Bakugo’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll tell you just what you wanna hear!”

“Leave me alone, you big red prick.”

“Sooo, Y/n, I was hopin’ you could help me study up for the math test!” Ashido said, smiling widely and looking at Y/n with pleading eyes.

“Huh? Oh, me too!” Kaminari said loudly, bumping into a desk as he tried to join them at Uraraka’s desk. “I’m definitely on the verge of failing!”

Y/n laughed at him as he carefully put the table he’d bumped into back in place.

“Yeah, sure,” she said. “Weird to think you’re coming to me, though, I would’ve thought Yaomomo’s a better tutor!”

Kirishima walked back into the classroom casually, also joining the crew surrounding Uraraka’s poor, crowded desk.

“Yo. You planning a study sesh?” He asked. Kaminari nodded. “Can I join?”

“Sure,” Y/n said, shrugging. “We should meet in the common area. If it’s only you three, we should have enough space in my room. Unless you’re coming too, Ochaco.”

“Oh! No, I actually have some other plans for this evening,” Uraraka said, shaking her head and declining politely. “Deku’s invited me out to train with him and Iida. I think he said Aoyama was coming too.”

“Oh, fun!” Y/n said, grinning. “Have some fun for me, why won’t you?”

“Sure!” Uraraka said, smiling and nodding.

“Oh, hey, by the way,” Kirishima said suddenly, deciding he needed to stick his neck out and be a wingman for his favorite bro. “Bakugo said he wanted to talk to you. He’s going straight to his room before going out to train on his own, so you’ll probably find him somewhere en route.”

“Oh… Bakugo?” Y/n repeated. Kirishima nodded.

“That’s terrifying,” Kaminari said flatly. He glanced at Sero, who was busy doing something on his phone.

“Huh? Oh, Bakugo wanting to talk to you? You’re in major trouble, Y/n,” Sero joked, tucking his phone in his pocket. “I’ll pray for you.”

“Please come back with your head not exploded,” Ashido begged. “Otherwise we can’t study with you later!”

“I’ll be fine,” Y/n said, grinning. “...Probably. Anyway, we can meet at six?”

“Six sounds fine,” Kaminari said. Ashido nodded.

“You probably shouldn’t keep Bakugo waiting,” Sero said. He shook his head. “Good luck, Y/n. Don’t die.”

“Yeah, I’ll try not to,” she said, saluting her friends playfully before leaving the classroom. She went straight to the dorms, looking for Bakugo the whole way there just in case he was still on his way.

What the hell could he want?

Y/n walked into the dorms, still not having seen Bakugo.

“Hello? Bakugo? I’m here!” She called, meandering around the common area. When she didn’t receive any sign of him, she went upstairs, still calling out. “Kirishima said you want to talk! Where are you?!”

She heard a loud thud, some clanging, the word shit, and a door opening from a floor above. Assuming the plethora of noises was Bakugo, she walked over to the stairs. Bakugo was at the top, about to go down just as she was about to go up.

“Y/n?”

“Kirishima said you wanted to talk to me,” Y/n said.

“That damn redhead!”

“Is that a no?” She asked. Bakugo shuffled down the stairs to stand in front of her. He crossed his arms, clearly upset. “Baku-”

“Look. You’re really nice,” Bakugo said suddenly, taking Y/n by surprise. “Annoyingly so. You help everyone out, you’re less of a pain in the ass than other people, and you hang out with all the angels in class, but I was going through your stuff and found this.”

He uncrossed his arms and opened one of his hands, effectively showing he’d been holding one of Y/n’s keychains- Something she kept hidden.

“Why the hell were you going through my stuff?!” She asked, angrily snatching her keychain back from him. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Why were you in my room?!”

“...I’ve never seen you get mad before.”

“Yeah, and?! What’s your problem, Bakugo?! That’s so uncalled for!” Y/n scolded. She stared down at her keychain, a clear plastic heart filled with blue glitter and a little plastic “demon” written in cursive.

“What’s my problem?! You were supposed to be an angel! You were supposed to be like me, we were supposed to fall in love, you were supposed to look me in the eyes one day and say ‘let’s run away together’ and hold my hand and take me straight to heaven or something!”

“Um… Okay, there’s a lot to unpack there,” Y/n said slowly, staring at Bakugo in confusion, concerned. “First of all, you implied that you’re an angel, which I refuse to believe. Second, ‘fall in love’? What the hell?! And what’s with running away together?! Bakugo, what the- I’m… Who are you?”

Bakugo just stared at her silently, watching as she gripped her keychain tightly and took a step away from him. Her eyes were almost unreadable, almost, but he could tell she was… Scared? Why was she scared?

“...I’m an angel, and I love you?”

#eh #might write a part 2 #bakugo #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #au #alternate universe #angels and demons au #yandere? maybe?#katsuki x reader #i'm not great at editing so i hope this is okay

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years

Text

Thunderstorms ||Jasper Hale x Reader||

This one was requested by @deathaffection666 and after some umming and ahhing I finally came up with an idea. I hope you enjoy :)

Words: 2420

Warnings: A little angsty near the start, implied PTSD, but it ends nice and fluffy.

Summary: Jasper has never liked thunderstorms, they don’t bring anything good with them, so when the storms start raging in his head you hold him up to make sure he doesn’t drown in them.

The Olympic Peninsula was said to be one of the wettest places in the continental US. Cold and grey, the sun was such a rarity that it sent humans flocking into green spaces, hands outstretched as if they could grasp the golden rays and hoard them for their own personal use when the rainy days came again. They always came far sooner than any of those humans would have liked; it was the one thing he still had in common with them. Jasper didn’t clamour to be in the sunlight of course but he relished in the days it did come, for they were days of intense relief, relief only Edward could half understand. He saw but he never felt, had no true comprehension of just what sunny days meant to Jasper.

Sunny days meant days at home with his family, where there were no humans to make his throat burn with thirst and bitter rage. Better yet, they sometimes meant hunting to, where he could douse the flames and keep them gone for longer without human interference stoking the fire once more. Sunny days meant the freedom to be himself at home since he didn’t have to be so tightly wound. There was no more constant watching of his surroundings, no lingering tension as he scanned for exits and tried not to exert too much strength onto school equipment, no last second changes in direction as an avoidance tactic or listening to the irritating whispers of those high schoolers who spoke in hushed whispers of his oddness.

I am odd, more different than you will ever perceive until it’s far, far too late…

There was no caging the beast inside of him on sunny days, because these were the rare occasions that the beast felt tamed. He didn’t dislike the overcast gloom that constantly hung over Forks, per say, on the contrary it gave him great freedom of movement compared to the half life he’d lived in the shadows of other cities in other states. The gloom was welcome, even a light drizzle was since it dampened human scents and had them scurrying for their homes, keeping them far off of his radar and lessening his temptation to devour them. No, no Jasper longed for these sunny days to keep away what came after. Sunny days were almost always followed by a thunderstorm or two, and they were torturous in their own way to him.

He had been able to taste it in the air since early that morning, the damp and stagnant smell of water rolling in on the clouds above. The wind had picked up just a little, shifting from the gentle breeze of yesterday into a more ferocious gust today, one that nipped at soft flesh and riddled it with goose bumps. The sky had darkened gradually, more cloud cover coming over and weaving together to form armour above the Earth that refused to let the smallest drop of sunlight through. It had all set him on edge before the day had even really started, the crackling feeling of lightning dancing on the gusts of wind that were undeterred by their failure to permeate his skin making him grind his teeth so hard he was surprised he had any left.

You knew of course. Your relationship with Jasper had built steadily, slowly, but in all the time you’d known him you had built a policy of honesty between you both. It was an unspoken rule that you never lied to one another, and over the decades that you had passed together that honesty had brought up stories you were sure he’d never tell anyone else. If there was anything to know about Jasper Hale you knew it and vice versa, you simply didn’t see the need for secrets, so when the first drops of rain fell onto perpetually sodden earth, you knew where his mind took him. Vampirism had its perks, but sometimes the enhanced senses were more of a curse than a blessing.

Jasper was rigid by the window of your shared bedroom, a place he had retreated to the moment he had tasted the lightning in the wind. With his arms folded over his chest, he stared out at the forest through unseeing eyes, the golden irises already being taken over by black, like ink spreading across old parchment. His jaw clenched so hard you were surprised it didn’t crack, his expression twisting as the rain came down in first a few drops, then in sheets. Gallons poured from the sky, mother nature openly weeping for the state of the world in this quiet, private corner of Washington state. His fingers curled into fists, nostrils flaring. The problem with thunderstorms is they were strong in such heightened senses, and when you hated them, having them take over your every sense was like an invasion you were too powerless to fight.

Every raindrop that shattered against the soil was a clattering, ricocheting gunshot vollied across a battlefield straight into his ears. Where lightning struck and scorched the ground, the faintest smell of smoke was a shell that had exploded amongst comrades too far away for him to reach. The rain that spun in dizzying patterns on strong winds blurred his vision, shadows moving erratically in his line of sight, enemies coming to get him and all he held dear. Jasper had spent many a thunderous night staring from the rooftop barn of Maria’s stronghold reflecting on his days as a soldier, on what was right and what was wrong, and as with all things the more you think of them the more easily they are called to mind. Jasper had associated thunderstorms with war ever since, and to his scarred heart war was a painful reminder of every shameful thing he had ever done.

As if he needed any of that! He didn’t need the gut-wrenching anxiety or the shame or the guilt, or the fear. He had enough frustration in his day to day life, watching his adopting siblings’ swan about with restraint he could only dream of while he felt the disgust and trepidation others felt towards him. They all revered his family, oh how the masses adored the pretty and polite teenagers that they longed to be but be nowhere near, but him? Nobody had ever felt anything good about him until you came along, and you always came, especially when the storms began raging in his head. You were distinct, unique. You could be lost in a crowd of a million and one people and Jasper would always find his way to you. You were his lighthouse on stormy nights like this.

His body tensed as your hands slid around his waist, and up his abdomen, but some distant part of his brain recognised the gentle touch as your own. Then came your lips, soft and sweet against the back of his shoulder, moving upward slowly to the nape of his neck as you squeezed him back against your body.

“Stay with me.” You whispered. Jasper swallowed back the venom that had pooled in his mouth without his knowing, the dark thoughts bringing forth his darkest nature. Hesitantly, he unfolded his arms and placed a single hand over one of yours, feeling the smooth skin and the cold ridge of metal that graced your ring finger.

“It’s loud.” He ground out through clenched teeth. The hand he wasn’t holding drifted up into his hair, setting off every instinct he had. They’re going for your head, they’re going for your head, they’re going for your head. He stayed frozen in place, breathing in and out evenly through his nose in the hopes your sweet scent would overwhelm the dampness of the storm, those muddy battlefields beyond the glass slick with rain and blood and venom.

“Then let’s make it quieter.” You suggested lightly, hand carding through his hair rhythmically. Jasper leaned into your touch, the soothing feeling a complete contrast to his agitated mind. He welcomed it, embraced you whole heartedly as your scent made his head swim a bit, his thoughts wavering. When you pulled, he followed, body turning away from the window so all he could see was you. His vision was filled with your gentle smile, your liquid gold eyes so full of love it almost hurt his heart. With his focus on you it was easier to tune into your emotions to, the calm adoration and quiet confidence that this moment would pass and peace would be restored. They washed over him like waves gently lapping at the shore, ebbing and flowing, pulling him out of the darkness and into you.

It took him a few moments to realise you’d lead him to the family bathroom. It was right in the centre of the house and given the private nature of the activities that occurred in such a room, the windows were smaller here. You’d sealed them shut, and steam had clouded them over, steam that rose from a bathtub full of bubbles. Jasper blinked, eyes flickering about the room to the lamps dragged in on extension cords that cast soft, warm light over the porcelain and tasteful grey tile. No candles, no reminders of the fires he’d lit with innocent people as kindling. The room smelled floral, not a sour note in the air to be found, and the radio you cherished for it’s retro look was playing the gentle, plucking guitar melodies he loved to listen to in his spare time.

You had already taken three of his five senses back, so when you began to undress him Jasper let you take a fourth to – touch. Your fingertips idly caressed his skin, brushing sometimes on accident, sometimes on purpose, against him as you worked buttons free of holes and pushed the fabric to the floor. He focused in on the feel of your hands, soft and warm against his own marble flesh as they glided over his pectorals up, up, up towards his jaw. With his face cupped in your hands he was helpless to do anything but lean in when you pulled his mouth to your own, a soft, sweet kiss lingering on his lips just briefly before you pulled back again with a smile, brushing your thumb over his lower lip and inclining your head to the water waiting for you both.

“You’re wearing one too many layers for a bath, sugar.” He murmured, not taking his eyes off of you yet as he lowered himself into the water. It was like velvet against his skin and he knew you must have used the fancy bath oils Emmet held so dear for this. He made a quiet vow to protect you from his wrath later. Your only answer was a smile, and with a few quick movements you stripped yourself down for his hungry eyes only and settled yourself behind him in the tub.

It’s a trap, it’s a trap, it’s a trap, they’re coming at you from behind…

He drew in a deep lungful of air, your scent mixing pleasantly with all the oils and soaps in the bubbles surrounding him. Your hands cupped water and poured it over his shoulders, massaging gently as you went down either side of his spine, tugging him back so he was forced to rest against you. Your lips played along the column of this throat as he stared up at the ceiling, the soft lighting leaving no room for shadows in any corner of the room.

“Done a lot of things that I’m not so proud of took a lot of turns, that turned out wrong, it’s a worn-out song.” Your voice was like honey in his ears, drowning out the rain he could still faintly hear pounding outside with your singing. Jasper willed himself to close his eyes, leaning his head back against your shoulder and letting himself sink into your strong embrace. With his head a little clearer it was easier to train his senses one by one on the room you’d set up, focus in on one thing at a time to chase away the last vestiges of panic that hadn’t had a chance to settle and burrow in thanks to your quick actions.

“I will survive, I will endure, when the goings rough, you can be sure.” He sang along quietly to the radio, feeling you smile against his skin as you kissed his temple.

“Letting go of my bad habits, hanging onto hope, for better times, I’ll be fine.” You continued, pouring some shampoo into your hand to massage it into his scalp. Jasper hummed, focusing on the feel of your fingers in his hair, the lingering smell of coconut.

“Tear drops, no one sees but me, I won’t stop, I’ll always believe.” Jasper rumbled, smiling slightly as you used your hand to shield his eyes from the soap washing away from his hair. You were everywhere with him all at once, your scent in the air, your body against his. You were real, and solid. You were hope incarnate. When the darkness came for him you pulled him back into the light and renewed his faith in himself. Your gentle actions and the outpouring of love and devotion and all things good he felt from you would always keep him buoyant when the storm threatened to drown him again.

“I’ll tough it out, I won’t give in, when I’m knocked down, I’ll get up again.” You sang along, nuzzling his wet hair. Jasper squeezed your thighs that rested either side of his waist, turning his head slightly to lean into you. You were his everything in moments like this, and he wished they never had to end, that reality never had to seep in like it did.

He wanted more for you, to be better for you, to live a life where he was free of the pain he carried so it would stop hurting you to. He could see that future, so tantalisingly close yet so far away when his demons came back to haunt him. He would be better tomorrow, when the storm had passed, but for tonight he was safe in your embrace to dream the beautiful dream of a life without struggle, where you could both just be, together and whole and happy.

So, he sang the last line of the chorus to you as a vow, a promise that better times were coming for you both.

“As long as my dreams alive, I will survive.”

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #oneshot #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #emmet cullen #the cullens #request #yes I did steal the song from Holes but it was a good song #mentions of maria #tw ptsd

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