#ha! even tumblr wants to him me with a shoe: I reached the tag limit!

[hotdamnhunnam]

Filthy Fucking Pet

A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which Jax Teller owns and abuses you like an actual animal… this shit is mad intense lol and Jax is an absolute alpha male asshole. **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dom!Jax, extreme degradation/dehumanization (master/pet kink, sweat kink, foot worship, ass worship, Jax humiliates you to the max, realistically this is not at all a healthy relationship) Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)

Word Count: ~2.6k

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

Seriously, this shit is super savage and sick and twisted. You’re basically Jax Teller’s personal house pet. In addition to kinky stuff like rimming and the general vibe of extreme submission, this is also the first fic I’ve posted on tumblr that features foot worshiping (I swear I have no interest in feet irl really – as with pretty much all of the kinks in my kinkiest fics honestly, it’s just a theoretical fantasy that I have only for Charlie, and only in theory… since theoretically I have no limits with my sex god king…)

Anywhore, enough ado about nothing! 🙃 All of the kinks in this fic are mentioned in the above warnings, so please just be mindful of them before you jump in…

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You used to be human. But now... it feels as if you've never been.

From the day you and Jackson first met, way back when, you had fallen in love with the crown prince. Fallen to your knees to serve him as his bitch and that's all you have been ever since. Pleasing him is your business. You're his little whore, and his personal pet: nothing more, nothing less. 

Anything but human honestly. You're whatever Jax Teller wants you to be. His kinky sex kitten, his filthy fuckpig, or his damn dirty dog on a leash. It's the best. You don't speak, you don't eat—not human food, at least—you just serve at his feet. This is your whole existence. And God, you feel so fucking blessed.

You spend all your days in his house, day in and day out. The castle of the king of Charming. It's such a gift just to live under the same roof as him. Whenever he's not home, you miss him so badly it hurts. But you keep yourself busy by doing the housework. Constantly crawling on all fours, you use your grubby paws to scrub the floor, and sweep the dust off of his furniture. 

Then once you're done with all your chores, you kneel down by the front door, and wait desperately for your master. Just counting the seconds until he returns.

Every time that it happens, the moment you hear the smooth roar of the engine as his bike gets in... then his powerful footsteps approaching the entrance... your heart starts to beat harder, faster. On fire in the presence of Jax. There is always a butt plug stuck deep in your ass, with a big fluffy fake tail attached. You're otherwise naked except for your collar and tags. 

And today, as your master comes home after quite a long time far away, you are happier than you can take—your whole body quivers and quakes, and your tail starts to wag.

When Jax finally walks in, you gaze up at him with wide, worshipful eyes. He's so damn beautiful you could cry. You yelp and whimper a few times in greeting, to express how excited you are to be seeing your king. By now your human brain has certainly stopped working. Your hungry tongue hangs from your open mouth, breathing needy and loud, as subhuman growls and thick gobs of drool keep spilling out.

He smiles down at you as he enters, worn out from a long day of being Jax Teller, the baddest motherfucker ever. He must be exhausted, no doubt. 

But still his gorgeous grin is big and genuine, bright as the sun, his slicked hair such a brilliant blonde, eyes as deep and as blue as the ocean. Clearly pleased at the sight of your tail-wagging motion, a signal of your pure devotion. 

"Happy to see me?" he teases playfully, as if he has to ask. Typical Jax.

You nod gleefully in response to that. Your perfect master reaches down to pat your head, stroking your hair now as you purr for him, showing how much you adore him, as his faithful little pet. 

"That's a good slut," he coos. "Go on, you know what to do."

Lowering your face to the ground, as ever eager to go down, upon those words he speaks, you hurry to remove his shoes. Those famously white sneaks. Then tug his socks off with your teeth—damp with a long day's worth of sweat, getting you drunk on his intoxicating scent, the pure essence of Jackson—then press sloppy kisses all over his beautiful feet. Servicing him like this is everything you need.

Ugh, you've missed him so much... full of love and submission, arousal dripping from your crotch, you stuff his socks into your mouth both at once, then lift your face off of the floor and sit back on your heels in your usual kneeling position. Your paws are propped under your chin as you blink up at him. He knows just what you want.

"Look at you, cunt. You wanna play fetch?" he says, chuckling as you bob your dumb head eagerly up and down. It's so much fun when he rolls his sweaty socks into a ball and throws it all over the house, for you to chase around. Playing that game is such a privilege. "Hmm, I would... but I'm not in the mood. Master's too fucking tired. Too bad for you, bitch."

Aw. Too bad indeed. Wallowing in self-pity, you pout and hang your head in a deep bow, but you know better than to plead. He turns to walk away now, and you follow at his feet. Crawling as you are it's always hard to keep up with his speed.

He's yawning by the time you reach the master bedroom. Some nights he has more energy when he gets home. Sometimes he'd slam you up against the wall and fuck you hard in every hole, wild and savage as an animal, filling you with his thick creamy cum, so deliciously full... 

Apparently not tonight, though. You can't blame him, you know. You can't blame Jackson Teller for any damn thing, to be honest. Of course not. Because he is your fucking king. Whatever he does, he's your master, your god; everything about his whole existence is flawless.

You watch in rapture as he strips naked, carelessly flinging his kutte and the rest of his clothes to the floor, and flops facedown in bed to lay his weary head to rest. Fit for the king he is, his bed is big and plush and luxurious. At this late hour, he's too tired to even bother with a shower, you notice. Fuck yes—that's how you like it best. 

Hopefully he'll let you use your tongue to clean up all his glorious sweat. Then whenever he leaves next to take care of business, you'll still get to savor his scent in his absence, inhaling it off of the sheets and the mattress. Your thirsty mouth is watering just at the thought of it, as you scurry all over the bedroom to clean up his mess. 

Gathering up all the clothes that he scattered, you can't help but take a deep breath. Inhaling the essence of this sinfully sexy bastard. 

You indulge in a whiff, as you slobber and sniff—focusing on the pits of his shirt so damp and sweaty it's obscene, and the rich-smelling crotch of his jeans, soaking up all the musk of his cock and his balls and his ass which smells so good it hurts—and especially his underwear... before dutifully dropping them into the hamper, along with the socks that you brought from downstairs. Though you hate washing Jax's sweet scent off of anything, one of your chores, of course, is to take care of all the laundry for your master.

"Get over here, bitch. You should clean up after me faster," he scolds, dominant voice husky and low, somewhat muffled as his head is partially sunken into one of his deluxe pillows. "Did you just get distracted by sniffing my sweat? You're such a greedy, filthy fucking pet."

You instantly start whimpering in apology, overflowing with self-hatred as you hasten toward the foot of his bed. You would say sorry, in so many words, if you could, as you should. 

But you can't, given that you're not human. And your master knows that of course. All you want is to worship his body, and show him you're sorry, but you need permission before you can move from your place on the floor...

"Crawl up onto the bed," he commands, well assured you will follow his orders as fast as you can. "Go ahead, you pathetic whore. Make yourself useful and worship my back. Can't you see I'm exhausted and need to relax?"

Oh, how you love when he lets out his inner beast and treats you to the absolute most savage side of Jax.

Though you also love when he is soft, when he treats you with sweet talk and cuddles you up... this is the side of him you adore even more. His abuse is just what you live for.

"I want a full body massage," he orders, as you set to work on his muscular shoulders. "Yeah, use those paws. And that dirty mouth of yours... so dirty... mmm, that's it, lick all the sweat off my body. Desperate fucking dog."

You don't need him to tell you—that is exactly what you're dying to do—but it's so much better when he does. So damn hot. It's insane just how much you get off on his dirty talk.

And he keeps going on as you worship his perfect physique. While your hands rub and knead every inch, your mouth traces a line down the smooth divine curve of his spine, running down the black ink of the reaper design, wet lips puckering into passionate kisses all over his dewy skin, slurping up each new bead of fresh sweat as it dribbles and leaks. Every so often, his degrading words and his delicious groans of pleasure cut to cruel sadistic laughter, whenever he wants to humiliate you for being such a freak. 

That just makes you love him even more. You're his subhuman whore, reduced into a literal pig as the maddening scent and flavor of your master makes you fucking squirm, wriggling like a worm, every sound out of your throat a squeal or a squeak. His savage strength makes you so weak...

"Unghh God, you're such a fucking animal," he snarls as you salivate all over his sculpted muscles. "Get that worthless face lower down where you belong. Yeah, you know what you want. Suffocate in my asshole."

And that very instant, you do just as told. You wedge your whole damn head into the sacred space between his sweaty cheeks, diving in deep, digging for gold. It's salty and sweet and so so fucking hot. You don't even care whether you'll ever come up for air or not. He's everything you need and all you want to breathe. Your king Jax Teller is a motherfucking god...

When he growls and reaches back with both of his strong hands to push his palms against your skull and smash your face even deeper inside his crack, the pure aggression of the act gives you a goddamn heart attack. 

Before you can even recover from that, he suddenly shifts—you gasp for a split second as his magnificent body lifts.

But the next thing you know, he is squatting low over your mouth, then sitting the fuck down till your tongue is lodged deep in his tight sweaty hole and his big heavy balls are completely smothering your snout. 

Jax throws his head back with a guttural groan as he starts to grind, taking your mouth for a ride. You could die just from that fucking sound, from the taste, from the feel of his full body weight as he shudders and sighs, dominating your face. Degrading you just right. You could do this all night. Then he looks back down, bright blue gaze locking with your eyes, open wide, sex-crazed and lost in a mad loving daze.

Is this fucking real? Even as it happens, you honestly can't fathom how good it feels...

And there's no way that you wouldn't notice, in this position of pure bliss, your master's fucking enormous cock. While you drown in his ass, savoring your sweet feast, that massive piece of meat is throbbing right above you like a beast, hard as a rock. 

"Fuuuck, that's it—eat my ass, you good-for-nothing pig..." Jax explosively grunts as his hot sphincter squeezes and strangles your tongue. "Look what you're doing to my dick. You're gonna make me fucking cum. That what you want?"

Ohhh Godddd...

He goes on before you can respond. "Well, that's just what you're gonna get. Ughh—such a good little pet..." he praises as he begins pumping himself, the pink tip of his dick giving off the rich scent of his juices, each sweet drop that glistens, all glossy and wet. Some of his precum drips to your forehead.

But that's not where his full load is going to land. No, that's all gonna go down your dirty whore throat. Jax then clutches the top of your head with one hand, fingers rooting hard into your scalp, making you gulp and gasp, as you suck on his ass, while his other fist jacks off his perfect dick, faster and harder with each fucking stroke. He's so hot it's a joke.

"Shit—gonna cum—take it, bitch... take it all till you choke..." he moans, pulling his ass swiftly off of your slobbering lips and then pressing the tip of his cock onto your twitching tongue. Blessing you with a huge load of sweet white hot cum. By this point you're struck dumb.

You can feel your eyes roll to the back of your skull, as you savor his flavor and swallow him whole. You are so goddamn grateful. Jackson Teller is feeding your body, your heart and your soul. 

You're reminded right now of what you've always known: that you are his to own. He is more than human, so much more, all that you live for... and you are so much less and always have been. Falling in these roles just feels so fucking natural. He is a fucking god—everything you are not—and you're a fucking animal.

Once he is done using you as his subhuman cum dump, your master is gracious enough to let you clean him up. You wrap your lips around his flawless cock to lick and suck off every drop. Pressing French kisses all across his freshly drained balls and his perfect pink asshole. Hoping that your beloved master knows he's your entire world.

"Good girl," Jax sighs, as your face nestles in the space between his strong powerful thighs. "Bet you wish you could sleep with me here in this bed. But that would be wrong. Don't you know where you belong, you filthy little pet?"

Ah, yes—you could never forget. With a whimper of submissive bliss, you give your master one last kiss, right on the tip of his delicious dick. Admiring how even right after he came it’s still so stiff and throbbing and thick.

And then you climb off of his mattress and crawl into your tiny pet bed, set right by his nightstand. The spot where you're so blessed to sleep beside this divine god of a man. You curl yourself up nice and small, into a little ball, so you can fit. And all the while you're still squealing like a pig. You just can't help it.

The king of Charming huffs out one of his majestic snickers at the sound of you grunting and groveling, so low-down and pathetic. "Goodnight, pig."

Your heart flutters—so grateful and glad that he calls you that, just what you are to him, always will be... so fucking filthy... you know that he is pleased, and his pleasure is all that matters.

You already can't wait till the morning when he'll let you drink from his dick, hopefully. But till then you'll just sleep, knowing that all your dreams will be sweet, for you dream of one thing only: pleasing your master.

And you're living that dream, as unreal as it seems. Your real life is as good as it gets.

You'll go on forever loving every minute of living with Jax Teller—living for Jax Teller, now and forever—as his filthy fucking pet.

***************

… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

– Main Masterlist

– Dirty Little Secret Masterlist

***************

Kinkfest Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @malethirsty @coffeequeenxx @turner-cris @innerpaperexpertcloud @est11 @magic-room @littlebennettwitchsblog @snow-white-74 @sunflower12335 @trishmarieofficial @got-to-love-a-badboy @thesimonkshow @noneofyourbusinessssblog @notquitecannon @travistheaussie @alexa-rae-dreamz @i-love-scott-mccall @band--psycho @helloheyhihowdyheya @beth-winchester21 @inlovewithcharliehunnam @amberembers @pedritomando @badboy86uk @scarletmeii @barbiewasacommunist @englishmuffinwritesbooks @addcrastinator3 @southrenlove @malikadnan77 @thesuicidalflower @gemini0410 @louisianalady @ravynfenyx @weasleytwins-41 @mariska0610 @zozebo @christycarnell6 @i-hav-no-life @labramusic01 @thatgirljayy @boredintheglade @guerra-e-paes @charliehunnamlove @rayslittlekitten @heyitskat101 @dilftony @velvetcardiganbucky @midnight-dreams-23 @celine-and-hafiz @romanreigns-supreme @synnersaint @writtingbyacrazyperson @norwegian-princess @itsmycorneroftheinternet @suicidepanda07 @abby-splace @gunmybear8o @luv-nd-serenity @ficsilovetoreadwithcats @missusnora @starstruckbluebirdtriumph @kesskirata @msmorganforever @jeeperky @spactucs-blog @sinnforsir @leilani-writes @nmartguy

#jax teller #sons of anarchy #soa #charlie hunnam #jax teller smut #sons of anarchy smut #soa smut #charlie hunnam smut #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #charlie hunnam imagine #jax teller fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfiction #soa fanfiction #charlie hunnam fanfiction #jax teller x reader #jax teller x you #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you #tw: degradation #tw: verbal abuse #kinkfest #dirty little secret

[crsinclair]

Popular Fic Meme

I was tagged by the ever-lovely @gluethegrue ! Oh gosh I’m all a-flutter~

Rules: Create a list of five of your favourite fics you’ve written and have followers vote on the best one, then write a small dabble of the winner. Set your own time limit for voting and tag five other writers.

SO.  I forgot this was a thing, like.  Legitimately.  I meant to link the fics the next day but um.  Well I currently have a concussion so I can’t remember why I didn’t link the fics, but I didn’t and that’s on me.  Oops.  So, here’s try #2, in which I have PROPERLY linked the fics in question (and I changed one of the options, sorry :p).  I’ll leave the voting open again until Wednesday (3-20-2019), and concussion permitting I’ll post the winner and a related drabble!

HERE ARE THE FICS:

Laughter (If It’s The Last Thing I Do) - An Erasermic fic where Hizashi is a dumb teenage boy who angrily tries to make the new kid laugh and falls in love along the way

Aizawa looked up, dark eyes just peering over the edge of his notebook. After a moment, he said, quiet and as bored as ever, “I didn't laugh because I didn't think it was funny.”

Tensei was rolling his eyes in the corner of Hizashi's vision, but oh no. He was too busy fuming. He jumped from where he was perched and marched over to the increasingly bewildered transfer student. Smacking the end of his pointer finger into the back of Aizawa's notebook, he bit out, “Just you watch, you bastard, I'll make you laugh if it's the last fucking thing I do!”

Or

Hizashi is a young teenage boy that goes a very, very round-about way to get to know someone. It all works out in the end.

Just Another Day Next to You - Another Erasermic fic in which Hizashi has the Feels™ for one Aizawa Shouta and wants to confess.

Hizashi reached across the aisle to poke his friend in the arm. “Shoooouta, so mean! I thought you liked my cheery attitude and go-get-'em personality!”

“Mm. I guess we are friends, aren't we?” Shouta teased, not lifting his eyes from his notebook.

'I'd like to be a lot more than that,' Hizashi didn't say.

Or

Another day in the life of a pining teenage boy.

No Extreme G-Force Required - A Shance fic in which Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane is really, really down on his luck. Until he literally runs into Lance McClain, that is.  The Sugar Daddy Lance Fic I didn’t know I needed until I wrote the damn thing.

“Seriously, I think I might’ve ruined your shoes. I can buy you a new pair, if you want?”

Shiro did drop his wallet at that.

“Wh-what? No, no, that’s - that’s fine, it’s fine - “ Though now that Shiro looked down at his own feet he could see that his shoes had definitely seen better days. “I’ll just, just throw them in the wash or something - “

Lance slapped a hand to his mouth in horror, face actually going a few shades pale. “NO! You can’t do that! That’s - no!” He shook his head, frantically tossed his empty cup into a nearby trash can, and grabbed Shiro by the wrist. “No, my dude, I can’t let you do that, nuh-uh, I am buying you a new pair of shoes right now!”

“What!? No! You don’t need to - sir!”

OR

In which Shiro is down on his luck, runs into Lance (literally), and manages to snag himself a Sugar Daddy.

Say My Name - A Hogwarts!Erasermic AU that honestly I debated adding onto this list because it’s um.  Well, it’s smut.  :) But I love the AU a ton soooo - in which Hizashi gets a Siren Inheritance and Shouta doesn’t know how to fucking deal with it (WARNING: Not Safe For Work, is Explicit, please proceed with caution)

Shouta’s scowl started coming back. “It can’t be that bad,” he scoffed. He wasn’t happy about this. Hizashi looked miserable not being able to participate in a conversation. Especially one about himself. The blond lived and breathed to be able to chatter others’ heads off.

Nemuri gave Shouta a look. “I dunno, Shouta,” she drawled happily. “When he talked to me earlier, he sounded like sin. Such a pretty, pretty voice you’ve got now, huh, ‘Zashi?”

Hizashi looked like he wanted the Great Hall to swallow him whole.

Shouta? Scowled down at his breakfast and stabbed a sausage. Damnit, he hated it when Hizashi was quiet. And what he hated even more was that right now? Learning that his not-quite-boyfriend-but-definitely-more-than -friends had the voice of a Siren? He knew the lore. Even if Sirens were extinct, they were popular in mythology even in the non-magical world. He wanted nothing more than to hear Hizashi speak.

Preferably his name.

Daemon-Soulmate AU - Not an actual fic, but I’ve got a few little bits and bobs hanging around on this hellsite.  An Erasermic AU in which everyone has a daemon, not everyone has a soulmate.  Soulmates have the daemon that belongs to their soulmate and will only know who their soulmate is when they meet.  (Link is to the first bit on tumblr, more available by searching #daemon soulmate au)

So much pain.

The worst he’s ever felt. Like someone had just dropped a cinder block on his chest and then set it on fire. It hurts, so much, stop it, someone make it stop -

He gets pushed aside, stumbling for half a second before tripping out of bounds.

“Winner, Yamada Hizashi!”

Shouta can barely get his eyes to focus, but he forces himself to look around. The blonde kid he was fighting was kneeling next to a small blob of black, frantic and crying and Shouta can see two little orbs of grey peering at him from the black.

Tsuki. A daemon.

His daemon.

Shouta feels cold. His daemon. He finally meets his daemon, the one Sunshine was always telling him was out there, the one that was with his soulmate…

And he hurts it.

Remember to vote!  Send votes to my inbox, please, and I’ll be sure to remember this time!  *sets 7 alarms to remind myself to fucking check on wednesday* (I’m not tagging other people because in my last one I already did AND they’ve already made their posts.  So no need to be rude on my part.)

#popular fic meme #oops i'm sorry #ravyn writes #let's uh. let's try this again shall we?? #erasermic #shance #hehehehehe #properly linked and with summaries this time! #oh god i need some advil my head hurts

[edream93]

I’m Hooked On All These Feelings (Harry of Auradon AU) Part 4

Okay so let’s all just assume that I’m not going to be able to give up Tumblr for 6 weeks. Oh well! Anyway, back with Part 4 of the Harry of Auradon AU (here’s the link for Part 1 , Part 2 , and Part 3)? Enjoy and of course let me know what you think either on here or on AO3 or FF.net. Likes are great but comments, even in the tags of reblogs are always appreciated.

I’m kind of nervous about this chapter because it really gave me a hard time but I hope you all still manage to enjoy!

On the Isle, 6 years ago

He hadn’t been there. Didn’t see it in person himself but the rumors that had spread throughout the Isle were so detailed, so vivid that ten year old Gil almost felt like he had been there which seemed so much worse to him than actually being there.

He checked everywhere he could think of. The dilapidated shack of an old pirate long dead that she would stay in any time her mother kicked her out. The rocky patch of the grey beach that she often went to when she was in one of her moods and wanted to be alone. He searched high and low until he finally found her alone in an alley near her mother’s shop. He could smell the rotten shrimp even before he got anywhere near her. Luckily enough, LeGume’s were made with stomachs of steel. And luckily enough for the girl he found alone and dejected in the alley, this son of Gaston, albeit not the smartest, was extremely loyal to his best friend.

“Go away!” Uma growled, wiping at her red eyes roughly before throwing a nearby empty bottle at him while sending him the nastiest glare she could manage.

Gil managed to easily dodge the bottle, barely batting an eye at the fact that she actually had been aiming for his head.

He got closer to her, frowning at the sudden realization that he never noticed how much shorter and smaller she was compared to him. Sure, Gil had recently gone through a growth spurt but she was tiny, just barely making it up to his chest. Her personality and confidence had just always seemed so large and reliable up until this point. Now...wow...he really couldn’t get over how small she looked.

“You have shrimp in your hair,” he pointed out reaching out to pull it from her hair. She slapped his hand away hard, taking a step back from him.

“How fucking dumb are you?” Uma yelled at him, kicking a nearby old and rotten crate until it collapsed. “Don’t you think I already know that?”

Gil saw that the act of destruction didn’t do anything to soothe her anger. Her rage. Her pain.

He felt helpless.

If it was a matter of strength or doing a small errand for her he knew explicitly what to do: he followed her, knowing Uma always was planning something. She was the brains, the beauty, the reason why they had both survived so long on the Isle and he was...well he had the brawn. But brawn was honestly a dime a dozen on the Isle. Replacing him wouldn’t be that hard...

“How could she do something like that? I thought we were partners! The baddest of the bad! I thought we were friends!” she cried out angrily shoving a nearby stack of crates, blinking rapidly against the tears in her eyes. Uma earned a yowl from one of Lucifer’s many kittens that had been perched on the crate before it jumped onto a nearby low roof, away from the rampaging girl. “Screw you!” she yelled after the cat. Suddenly, she turned her fury towards Gil. “And you! Why the hell are you still here? Where were you? Were you in on this the whole time? Thought it would be funny? Huh? HUH?!” she yelled at the boy,” pushing him hard with all her strength with each question.

At his unresponsiveness, her open palmed pushing turned to closed fisted hits that didn’t care where they landed.

“Why are you not fighting back!?” she growled angrily, braids flying, when the most he would do was let out a pained grunt. “Come on! Fight me! I’m already at the bottom of this fucking Isle food chain. Come at me!”

Gil shook his head. “No, I don’t want to, but you can keep hitting me,” he offered quietly, a stark contrast to her anger fueled rant. “My dad usually feels better after he’s done that when he has a rough day. You can do it too, if that’ll make you feel better. He usually goes until he knocks me out” he said earnestly, his expression showing that he wanted to please her, that he just wanted her to be alright.

Uma stared at him, the fire in her instantly simmering. She looked away from Gil’s eager to please face, disgusted with herself. Disgusted with the Isle. Disgusted with Mal and her backstabbing. Disgusted that hearing your friend was a punching bag for his dad wasn’t jarring as she knew it would be if they lived off this damn rock.

Uma took a deep breath but nearly gagged on the smell emitting from her hair. “Just...just help me take my braids out so I can watch this gunk out,” she murmured turning to head to the back entrance of the Chip Shop. “Then we’ll plan ways to get off this damn Isle and leave all these losers to rot behind.”

Gil grinned as he followed her, just happy that she was willing to include him in her plans. “Whatever you say, Shrim- I mean Uma!”

Rolling her eyes, Uma led the way and as always since they were six, Gil followed.

---

Auradon, Present

Coldness, that had nothing to do with the rain soaking into her clothes, sank deep into her bones.

“ If you’re against Mal, you’ve basically put a noose around your neck,” Jay’s voice taunted her thoughts.

The grey clouds above rolled across the sky with booming thunder and striking lightning as the only witnesses to her fury, her anger...her heartbreak…

“ Fuck Jay. Fuck Mal,” she thought with a lump in her throat as she imagined blue eyes as blue as the sea.

Why did the universe seem so intent on taking anything good from her life? Why was it that even amongst the villains she was a loser?

“Uma? Are you alright?” a concerned voice questioned above her just as the rain that had been pelting down on her suddenly stopped.

Jolting where she sat, Uma looked up into the worried too warm, too kind, (too naive) eyes of Prince Ben. A bright Auradon yellow umbrella was held above her head, covering her from the rain while the usually pristine blue and yellow of his suit began to quickly be drenched by the rain.

She didn’t answer. Wasn’t sure if she should answer, let alone how. Up until this point, Uma had tried to have limited contact with the prince. She avoided him mostly because his pretty in petty pink girlfriend Audrey was always glaring daggers at any of the Isle kids who dared got close to her precious Benny-Boo. However, If Uma was being perfectly honest though, the way that Ben looked at her, looked at all of them, like he could see the potential that her mother always denied her having, made her feel a twisting feeling in her gut that she didn’t even want to think of a guilt. (Villains never felt guilt, especially over princes.)

“Uma?” Ben questioned again when she still didn’t move let alone respond, eyes filling with more concern when she didn’t respond.

“I’m fine,” she managed to hoarsely get out, avoiding looking at him in hopes that he wouldn’t see how red her eyes were. She needed to get up, to get away from this too bright boy that she would inevitably have to deceive (from this too bright boy she may inevitably even play a role in his death). “You can go now,” she hissed, attempting to mask her discomfort when he continued to look at her with unfiltered concern.

Ben’s expression showed that he obviously didn’t believe her though.

“W-well,” he began sounding uncomfortable himself before his face lighted up in thought. “Let me walk you to wherever you were going at least,” he smiled easily. “I would be a bad host if I didn’t offer you some protection from the rain.”

Uma waited. Waited for him to laugh and mock her like she was so used to people on the Isle doing. Her shoulders slumped slightly when she realized that Beasty Boy was actually sincere. “You’re as sickeningly good as you look,” she sighed, the usual bite in her tone replaced with weariness.

The thunder above rumbled with a rumble of agreement.

Ben chuckled, still holding his umbrella carefully over her head as he gently guided her somewhere else, not seeming to mind at all the way his hair was plastered to his forehead.  

“How are you settling into Auradon?” he asked inquisitively. “I haven’t really had the opportunity to check up on you since you’ve arrived and Harry unfortunately likes to keep you all to himself.”

Rolling her eyes, Uma crossed her arms over her chest, easily keeping pace with his much longer legs. “Well school sucks but there’s less mold on the food here and I haven’t had to deal with one of my mother’s beatings in weeks so I guess it’s not horrible.”

She managed to hold back a snicker at the way his smile faltered on his face at her words.

“You’re mother beat you?” Ben questioned, looking very awkward.

“It’s the Isle, Princey Boy. Everyone’s parents either beats them with an extra helping of mentally fuck you up. Besides, a beating you can walk off,” she continued, finding some sort of sick fascination in the way his face grew paler. “Starvation and infection unfortunately is a little bit harder when you’re living twenty years in a garbage strike, eating whatever you royals throw away.” She glared hard at the boy, gaze heavy with blame. “Then again, malnutrition and death probably aren’t as regular an occurrence here as it is on the Isle, aren’t they?”

“I-I didn’t know -” Ben responded. “How is that possible?”

“Because you didn’t care to know! I mean who ever thinks about the villains?” Uma cut him off, ready to go off as soon as the first excuse left his mouth. However, the prince surprised her.

“You’re right. I didn’t,” he said honestly. “I never really thought about what life could have been like over there. I don’t think anyone here has. But I don’t think that’s acceptable for anyone, villain or not.”

Uma scoffed, choosing to focus on the way that water squished in her shoes than on the way that Prince Ben was looking at her. It was a look that was somewhere between the blind faith that Gil always showed her and the intense genuine interest Harry never failed to give her. It was unnerving seeing the ways the gears were turning in Ben’s head but not knowing exactly what he was thinking.

Silence settled thickly between them as Ben walked her around seemingly aimlessly. Not for the first time, Uma wondered how in the Seven Seas she found herself in this awkward situation and if there was any way she could get out of it. She just wanted to change clothes and hide away in the makeshift security of the library. Pretending that Mal didn’t exist. That Jay didn’t exist. That she didn’t have to once again lose what she wanted just to survive in this shitty world.

“You know, you’re not afraid to be honest, even with the a future king,” Ben grinned brightly once again though the remnants of their previous conversation obviously still weighed on his mind. “Another reason why I suppose Harry likes to spend time with you.”  

“More like stalking,” Uma murmured with no real heat.

“You’re important to Harry,” he shrugged with a grin growing wider, trying to hide his barely concealed giddiness when her cheeks darkened at his comment. “And I think it’s important to vet my fiance’s new girlfriend.”

Nearly tripping over her feet, Uma quickly spun around to face him, eyes wide.

“FIANCE?!?!” she snapped. Lightning flashed brightly above followed by a loud thunder clap. Uma ignored the way her heart felt like it was being stomped upon.

Barely a second passed before Ben broke out into laughter. Uma frowned, resisting the urge to stomp hard in the nearby muddy puddle and splash him. Instead she crossed her arms and demanded to know what was so funny.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ben apologized, a chuckle or two still escaping. “W-when Harry and I first met we were both really young and I had much longer hair,” he explained grin still wide on his face in nostalgia. “When our parents introduced us to each other, Harry apparently thought I was the prettiest girl he had ever seen and proposed to me right on the spot. When our parents had stopped laughing and explained that I was a boy he said just shrugged and said he would have a pretty boy as his husband then.”

Something in Uma’s chest twinged at the the thought of a little Harry, all wild, wind-swept dark hair and bright blue mischievous eyes taking a confused young prince’s hands in his and proclaiming his intent to marry.

“You know you just gave me perfect blackmail material against him,” Uma managed to smirk.

“And I hope you put it to good use,” Ben winked at her before his expression quickly sobered.

The rain around them seemed to lighten as Uma watched the little twitches his face made as he tried to make up his mind on whatever he was thinking. He was too easy to read, something that she realized she didn’t necessarily want to exploit at the moment.

“Listen Uma,” the prince sighed, looking at her with such an open and concerned expression she had to look away, fiddling with the sleeve of her rain and mud soaked jacket. “I know we haven’t had the chance to talk all that much but Harry never shuts up about you. Actually,” he chuckled slightly in thought, “I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before.  He really cares about you and maybe I shouldn’t say this, but he looks at you like...well, like the way I expect a person does when they’ve found their true love.”

“Or maybe it’s just gas,” Uma hissed, suddenly feeling angry, pushing down the realization that she wanted his words to be true. She wasn’t some pretty pink princess. Who was this boy to tell her this? To play with her heart that had been broken and torn and stomped on so many times by crushing tentacles and purple heeled boots and give her something that she had long ago learned to abhor: hope.

The sky that had once seemed to have lighten quickly became dark again.

Ben shook his head. “I’m not lying to you. You’re-”

“I’m just a good time , aren’t I?” Uma cut him off, moving away from underneath the protection of the umbrella to put some space between them, her glare not letting up even as rained rolled down from her hair to her skin. “Probably placed a bet with you and the rest of you uppity goody-doers.”

“Uma,” Ben said placing a gentle hand on her arm when she tried to move from underneath the umbrella. Though gentle, his eyes were hard and Uma was hit with realization that her sailor was cared for. People cared about Harry. The prince cared about Harry.

That realization made her both somber and jealous in a way that she had difficulty understanding.

“Harry cares a lot about you. Deeply. He wouldn’t have given you his mother’s necklace if that was case,” he nodded towards where he knew the necklace was hidden underneath her shirt.  “His younger sister, CJ, wouldn’t be hounding me for details about you if he wasn’t head over heels. I mean,” he shrugged, letting go of her arm and seeming to struggle to find the right words. “When I look at you both...it just...it just fits. Does that make sense? Like you two were made for each other.”

“You’re talking about true love aren’t ya?” Uma groaned, nose wrinkling in distaste. Love was looked down upon the Isle. Love made you foolish and stupid. That was one thing her mother did teach her. “That shit doesn’t exist.”

“How can you be so sure?” he said with such a gentle smile that it made Uma nauseous to realize that he was being completely genuine. “I’m...I’m actually really jealous of Harry,” Ben continued, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, eyes growing dim for just a moment. “I-I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who I wholeheartedly wanted to give the moon and stars for.”

“Not even with Princess Sleeping Snobby?” Uma found herself asking, somewhat surprised to find that she was genuinely curious about his response.

Ben sighed as if he was reminded of a great burden. “Maybe at one point I think I did,” he said smiling at her sadly, a far off look in his eye. “But I’m actually not sure anymore,” he sighed before ushering her back under his umbrella. “Sometimes, I feel like the person I’m searching for is only real in my dreams. I mean, I thought- I thought if…” He stopped shaking his head. “Nevermind,” he smiled not at all convincingly.

She wanted to ask more, not to exploit him but because she was actually genuinely curious. She noticed, however, like walking out of a fog, that rain was no longer falling around them. This time, they were now inside the boy’s dorm, rain continuing to fall as a light sprinkle outside.

“I figured we could ask Harry for some spare towels,” Ben grinned down at her, a hint of his previous mischievousness in his eyes before she could stop him from knocking on the door.

They both paused when the door was pushed open on its own. Ben paused, worry evident before suddenly pushing further inside, calling Harry’s name, Uma at his heels. She held back a curse though when she bumped into the prince’s back when he suddenly stopped.

When she peered around the prince, she immediately wished she hadn’t, knowing she would never get the image out of her head of Harry lying on the ground, deathly pale with a familiar yellow bandana clutched in his hand.

---

On the Isle, 10 years ago

When they were six, when she jumped into the filthy water that surrounded the Isle after his brothers tied him up to the heaviest pieces of cement, she hadn't been trying to save him.

To be brutally honest, she didn't care one clam if one of the few legitimate sons of Gaston drowned or not. There were plenty of Gaston bastards on the Isle to replace the littlest LeGume runt.

However, Mal had dared her to. (Instigated her. Taunted.) The half fae had guessed that the cement would pull the young boy to the deepest of the deep murky depths of the surrounding waters and stated that she didn't believe that Uma was big or strong enough to swim down and retrieve the boy, despite her mer-folk lineage.

“ At least I know how to swim, Dragon Breath,” Ursula’s daughter had teased in that way that only close companions, friends, could. That way that had no real bite but underlining affection that was only still present in the youngest of the Isle before it was beaten out of them. (Neither of then realized how in four years that nickname would be said as a curse and with the force of a storm threatening to rage on the horizon...)

So Uma swam, barely breaking a sweat as she reached the water’s bottom where the youngest son’s of Gaston struggles were beginning to slow, gaze growing heavy, the amount of bubbles leaving his mouth diminishing.

For a moment, Uma thought about leaving him and just grabbing the silly yellow bandana he always covered his head with at least for proof that she actually did make it to the bottom of the water. Letting him drown would probably be the nicest thing she could do for the boy, anyway. After all, life on the Isle had no place for one so weak…

She was just about to swim away after grabbing his bandana when a slightly larger hand grasped her own. For a brief second as she looked back at the boy, their eyes met and something that Uma hadn’t realized was untied within her knotted.

Mine , was the only word she could put to the feeling that forced her to cut the ropes of the then once again unconscious boy before kicking her legs with a strength not common in a girl of her size until they broke the water surface.

And as she pulled Gil back to shore, seaweed stuck in her hair and Gil coughing up water along the way, Mal watched from the safety of dry land with narrowed eyes, clenched fists, and raging jealousy held within her tiny frame…

Mal rolled her eyes as she stepped back as Uma dragged the nearly drowned boy onto land, watching as the teal hair girl nearly glowed with smug satisfaction from the boy’s praise after he had the chance to cough up all the water.

Mal noticed the boy’s signature yellow bandana had been dropped on the wet sand at some point, forgotten by its owner. She picked it up, smiling wickedly to herself as she shoved it in her pocket for a later time.

“If you can’t take it,” she thought, continuing to watch as Uma pretended to hate the attention the Gaston boy was giving her. “Break it…”

#disney descendants #edream93 fanfic #edream93 fanfiction #i'm hooked on all these feelings #harry of auradon #uma descendants #ben descendants #mal descendants #jay descendants #harry hook #uma #ben #mal #jay #huma #harry hook x uma #uma and gil friendship

[panticwritten]

Breaking Furnace Book 1: Lockdown

Chapter 5: Reverse Nepotism

Table of contents!

All of my writing!

I’ve had to change quite a bit of formatting to post this on tumblr because I am a fiend when it comes to using different fonts and tools and junk in my writing. If you want to read this chapter with its original formatting, you can do so here.

After this chapter, some of the formatting really starts to matter between the original document and the limits of what I can do on here. It doesn’t matter as much until the other four books, but I’m just gonna mention that I’m kind of disappointed in how limiting tumblr is. If you have a chance, I would seriously suggest checking the document.

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Super neat.

Remember that this is a daydream taking place in the Escape From Furnace universe, so keep that in mind if you haven’t read EFF.

Word count: 6302

Possible triggers for this chapter

Dissociation

(Almost) physical violence

Emotional manipulation

Brief mention of NAZI memorabilia

Hallucinations

Taphephobia

Scotophobia

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~-S-~

When I reach the yard, I walk close to the walls. I’m so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, eyes on the entrance to my cell, that I don’t notice Connor until he stands in front of me. His lips ask if I’m okay, but the words just sound like noise.

I wave him away, and he backs off. I screw my eyes shut, ground myself with the feeling of rock under my thin shoes, and the strange feeling disappears. Or lessens. The world doesn’t feel like static when I open my eyes again, at least.

I have the foresight to throw up another illusion to keep nosy inmates from seeing the two of us talking. I don’t know what it looks like from the outside, and I don’t really care.

I look to Connor, surprised when I see his brows creased. They smooth in an instant, but his concern remains when he rests a hand against my arm.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his gentle words accompanied by a brush of his mind against mine and his lips ghosting against my forehead. 

I curl my fists. He hasn’t been back long enough for me to throw all of this at him at once.

“I’m fine,” I promise. I step out of his grasp, past him, and climb into the top bunk. Connor takes a seat on the bottom, so I can’t see him.

“Did you hurt him?” 

I can’t help but smile at the hope in his voice. I flop onto my stomach and reach my hand into the open air between the bunks. He catches my hand and guides it to his head. I gently run my fingertips over his hair before letting my arm swing freely over the edge.

“No,” I promise. “I didn’t do anything.”

The silence between us, for the first time in a long time, isn’t heavy.

I sigh, messing with his hair again. “I missed you. I still do.”

“This was your idea”

“I know.”

Quiet reigns for again.

I twist a lock of hair between my fingers, and he absently entwines his fingers with mine to stop me. I haven’t felt this at ease in his company in more than two years—for him, it’s been upwards of five. 

It feels like a part of the broken connection between us has healed.

I’m not sure how long we’ve been sitting when he lets go of my hand. I poke my head over the side of the bed to see his eyes grow hard. I look up and scowl at the sight of Kevin ambling over to the cell.

I force myself to sit up, willing my body to stop protesting quite so vigorously.

He stops when he enters, the illusion of my shield shattered. His confusion gives me a chance to see just how badly he came out of the fight.

A nasty bruise spreads from his nose to his left eye and blood still trickles from his nostrils. Dark stains on his sleeves confirm that the bleed was much worse.

I slide from the top bunk to stand at his side. I threw the fight, might as well play the part. He catches me around the shoulders possessively, turning a smug grin on Connor.

He stands, barely attempting to hide his irritation. He glances at me, but does nothing else to keep me from becoming a passive bystander. .

“What happened to your face, boss?” Connor asks, leaning against my bed.

“Always got somethin’ to say, don’t ya’ Sawyer?”

Connor averts his eyes moodily. “If you kept going, you'd have ruined everything before we even got started.”

“Shove it. I thought the whole idea’s not to make a scene. Sure made a scene stoppin’ that fight.”

Connor doesn’t say anything. I reach my mind out to his, but I can’t get past the tension crackling like electricity. I furrow my brows. He doesn’t seem to notice anything, now turned away.

Kevin breaks my concentration by brushing my hair back from my ear. His breath tickles my neck as he leans close. I suppress an uncomfortable shiver, but I angle my head toward him to let him know I’m listening.

“Teach him a lesson,” he murmurs.

I freeze, turned to stone at the command. Connor shows no sign that he heard, glazed eyes fixed on the wall of the cell. I try again to reach him, but a wall of worry remains in my way.

“Perry, you hear me?” Kevin shakes me, his grip on my shoulder tightening.

Yeah, no.

I push away from him, matching the glare he turns on me. “You’re crossing a line, and you know it.”

Connor finally looks up, his eyes asking his questions for him. I don’t have time to answer now, especially if he’s not listening to me. This isn’t his fight. I need to handle this myself.

“I won the fight.” Kevin’s voice doesn’t raise, insistent petulance remaining his defining feature. At least he’s reliable for one thing. “You’re supposed to listen.”

Is he serious?

“The fight?” I hack out a laugh. “No, that’s not how this works.”

“But—”

“No.” I have to keep a snarl out of my voice, reminding myself that we’re all supposed to be on the same side. “If you think I’m giving up control to you, you’re crazy. I’m not scared to do this without you. Again.”

The blood drains from Kevin’s face. He shoots a nervous glance at Connor, as if expecting reassurance from him. He gets none, merely a shrug as the two of us await his response.

“This is—” He flicks his eyes between us and licks his lips, fidgeting. “I knew I should’a stayed home.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Connor asks, peeved. “I gave you every chance to back out.”

“I— You—” Kevin splutters, his anger building up again. “What ‘bout you? Why’d you come back to this shitshow?”

Connor glances at me, hesitating. Kevin catches it and grins, latching onto whatever he can, it seems, to stay in control of the situation.

“That’s it, innit? Gotta follow her—” At that, Connor’s lip curls. “—everywhere, don’tcha?”

“Kevin,” I mutter, but he ignores my warning.

“Gotta trot behind her like a puppy, never mind that she doesn’t care none about us.” Kevin’s smile turns snide, more of a sneer than anything else. “Think you’re different from the rest of us? She’d let you die in a second, just watch her.”

If he says anything else, I don’t hear him. He doesn’t know anything. I know he’s just trying to rile Connor up. I know he’s shooting in the dark for what might hurt him, but he has shitty aim. I’ll wipe that smug grin off his face.

A hand closes around my wrist before I can make a move.

The warmth from Connor’s grip spreads like fire from the point of contact to my other hand, curled into a fist. It soothes my nerves, stealing away my desire to drive my knuckles into Kevin’s mouth. 

I swallow hard and take a step back.

Connor lets go. I turn my back on the boys, not wanting to think about what just passed between us with Kevin still here. I need him to leave. He needs to go, Connor and I need to talk. 

Really talk.

The static crowds in. The same sparks keeping me from Connor’s thoughts, that turned his words to nothing, it all presses in. Even the voices behind me disappear, swallowed by the empty white noise. I close my eyes, fists clenched at my sides. Any more that that, Connor will notice and it’ll only get worse.

I thought I would leave this at home if I came here. I thought I would be able to do all of this, but it just won’t go away. It followed me here, though, and isn’t that exactly what I deserve? I dragged us here. Everyone came because Connor asked for me.

They came because I asked.

And that’s not good enough. This is no place for any of them.

It’s not real. None of it is real, imaginary hate and pain that I’m putting all of us through. It’s a weekend trip everyone regrets the second you pile in the car, but worse. This is more than a weekend, and we all have to die before it can end.

Tears spring to my eyes, and that seems to be enough to dispel the effect of the static wrapped around me. I stare, once again, at the red rock of my cell wall, tears streaming down my cheeks. After a moment, the argument behind me trickles back in, and I peek over my shoulder to check on them.

“—for this, you know! She came to me with the idea,” Kevin leans insolently against the bars.

“You know that you’re pushing too far. They said it themself, why are you still asking for more?” Connor’s mouth presses a hard line, his voice barely level, and the sparks still fly from his mind when I try to reach out.

I was naive to think we could go back to normal so easily.

“She knew what she was getting into. You knew what she was getting into,” Kevin says. Connor practically snarls in response, and I stare at him. 

I’ve never seen that before.

“We both thought you could be trusted to keep hold of yourself!”

“I can be!” Kevin straightens up and includes me in his glare once again. “We gotta make it believable, right? It wouldn’t be if—”

“I don’t care!” Connor hisses, finally letting go of what little hold he had on his temper. Kevin doesn’t flinch, but I do. “You’re out of control. We can’t do any of this without them, so you’d better think carefully before you try to pull shit like that again!”

I can’t take my eyes off of him. I have never seen Connor lose his temper. I’ve seen him mad, alright, but he’s never like this. Back straight, his voice cold and scathing, it’s like looking at a stranger.

I step back, but there’s nowhere to go. The detached look on Connor’s face doesn’t belong there. For the first time since he’s returned, I wish I could have the old Connor back. The simple voice, always happy, even if he was an absolute prick.

At the thought, Connor’s gaze shifts, softer, to me. His head tilts, barely, in my direction, brows furrowed. I must look like shit, because his eyes widen, stricken. He opens his mouth, shifting to face me, but doesn’t get a chance to say anything.

“At least I’m not defending a selfish little whore with a god-complex instead of letting her fight her own battles,” Kevin snarls, shattering the frail contact between me and Connor. 

I turn a glare on Kevin, eyes narrowed. A triumphant gleam lights his eyes, but his victory is short lived. I call out when Connor launches himself at him.

They tumble out of the cell, and I don’t see much in the rising dust. I follow them out and scream for them to stop, but a crowd begins to form. They shunt me to the side as they all gather around to cheer the two on and join in. I try to push through, but the crowd is too thick and I’m quickly shoved back into my own cell.

A siren blares. For a terrible second, the prison seems to freeze. All sound but the siren is suspended. 

The fight pauses. No one moves.

We hold our breath as one.

Then, the second passes.

The whole crowd takes off, dragging the fight with them. The pounding of feet on stone and shouts from around the yard permeate the air. I flee to my own bed, covering my ears and waiting for it to end.

Finally, it does, and the cells screech shut soon after. I don’t move, don’t even open my eyes. A shock of static fills the air, and I know that the warden’s face is now filling the large screen in the yard. If anything, this makes me cringe further away.

“Good afternoon, children,” my brother says, dangerously cordial. “That was the second skirmish today. It seems as though some of you have more energy than you can deal with, so work hours will be doubled for the next few days.”

A groan passes through the prison like a massive sigh. There it is. At least Connor and Kevin both have power enough here to keep from getting killed by angry inmates.

“We know who’s at fault, however, and you can be assured that she will be punished. Two nights in the hole, I think.”

A block of ice settles in my gut. I open my eyes to see a blacksuit crossing the yard.

No.

No, no, no.

I can’t go down there. Not yet, I can’t. Maybe I should have just fought Connor earlier. He would have forgiven me eventually, and this wouldn’t be happening.

I mechanically leave my bed to wait. Fighting won’t make this any easier. When the cell slides open, I don’t fight the blacksuit. He grabs my arm and pulls me along. I stare blankly at the cells that we pass, at the hostile glares and smug grins.

I hardly notice the siren screaming out again, turning my eyes to watch Cross in the big screen as the steel door swings open. Just before I pass through the door and lose sight of his shark’s grin, he addresses me directly.

“Busy first week, wouldn’t you say?”

~-S-~

I expect to be thrown directly into solitary, but the blacksuit surprises me by leading me past the steel hatches in the ground. I glance at him, but say nothing. My next thought is the infirmary, but when we forgo the plastic flaps of the wheezers’ domain, I know exactly where we’re going.

We walk silently down another hall, toward a forked path I’ve taken far too many times. 

Finally, we turn right and approach a sleek door fitted into the rock wall. The suit stops at the mouth of the hallway. He nods at me before backing away from the opening in the rock. 

Even they don’t want to be anywhere near what the room contains, I guess.

I’ve gotten used to the stench of darkness and the gravity of Furnace. I turn the knob and cross the threshold with just a moment of hesitation. It’s almost relieving to be in the presence of this kind of raw power. 

But my gaze lingers on the old rotary phone upon the desk as I enter.

The weight on my back seems to double, and my confidence splinters. The phone, sitting innocuously on the smooth wood, stares at me while dread pools in my gut. Sweat breaks on my forehead, and my breath catches.

Then the man behind the desk clears his throat and my unease vanishes. The room is just a room again, the phone just a phone.

I only look at Cross for a moment before crossing my arms and averting my eyes. He’s smiling, which is always a bad sign. I don’t approach him, glaring at the red flag bearing the Furnace logo behind his head. The logo is a mere replacement for his old order’s symbol, and the thought makes my stomach churn.

“Now you’re just being childish,” he says. He retains a note of humor, and that’s a bad sign.

I grunt a response that means nothing, and he chuckles. The sound of paper sliding against the wood of the desk piques my interest, all the same. 

“Very well. Sit, at the very least.”

After a moment, I grudgingly cross to the chair he gestures to. I drop into it and snatch up the paper he’s offered. I don’t look at it, though, finally regarding him with disdain.

Now, what does he want?

“I was going to find an excuse to bring you down here, but,” he leans forward and rests his chin on steepled fingers. “You decided to start a riot in my prison.” 

I tut at his word choice, somehow forcing my frown to deepen.

“That was hardly a riot,” I mutter.

“Semantics.” He waves my words away. I wonder how well it would go over if I just walked away. “You’re here now. I may as well have the pleasure of having you see this in my own office.” 

Remembering the paper in my hand, I look down and unfold the thin document. My irritation fades, and I lose hold of the glare I’d planned to retain throughout this meeting. 

It’s the blueprint I was working on before coming down here. He’s closed the loopholes I purposefully created, passages that would allow escape under the right circumstances. It’s harsher, reaching further into the ground, and it hurts my heart.

“These are the real ones?” I ask, tracing the passages with a finger. Why would he show me this?

“Yes.” I glance up at him, narrowing my eyes at his lofty tone. He doesn’t look at me, his attention focused on the paper in my hand. “We’re starting construction before the week is out. It will open within a few years.”

He peers at me out of the corner of his eye, his lips quirking up.

Like a slap, I realize what he’s getting at. I don’t answer, looking back at the sketch. He’s just as arrogant as I remember.

What, does he think I was excited about the German prison?

Eventually, after I’ve stewed for a while, he breaks the silence.

“You still have the option to join the right side of this, you know.”

“Never,” I answer, voice level. 

I struggle to keep my expression just as placid, carefully folding the blueprint. I push it back toward him on the desk, trying and failing to meet his eyes. He’s hiding something, still. 

May as well push my luck.

“Are you still doing it?”

He grins. The shark’s smile, so familiar from the blacksuits, chills my blood coming from him.

“Doing what, pray tell?”

You slimy, arrogant, piece of shit.

I don’t answer, can’t let myself answer. He has to know what I’m talking about, there’s no way he doesn’t.

After a length of silence, he looks away. He presses a button and calls me an escort to my cell. “This conversation obviously isn’t over, but you have a lot to think about.”

“You won’t find forgiveness here,” I swear, pushing myself out of my seat. “You’re going to pay for everything eventually.”

I nearly turn, meaning to meet my escort at the door, when his eyes finally catch mine. The office peels away, a flickering series of images replacing it.

A young boy, pinned down, a gas mask stitched to his skin. His shrieks echo, even in the instant he remains in sight.

Trenches, the dead stretched as far as the eye can see, a man that is not a man turning to face me. The shadow consuming him reaches for me before even the man’s face is visible.

A dark orchard, a single raven perched on a branch, its eyes piercing me. It opens its beak, its shriek lost in the howls of a unseen beast.

Someone has been skulking in Furnace’s old memories.

The office snaps back into place, and I have to catch myself to keep from falling back into the chair. I don’t look at Cross, I can’t, but I can still see the edges of his grin.

I asked for that, and I know it.

“I look forward to it, then.”

A blacksuit I hadn’t noticed entering grabs my arm, but I jerk away. 

I turn my eyes on Cross again, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, and I know I must represent everything weak in the world he most despises.

Well, back at you, brother.

“I will never stand at your side.”

I turn and sweep out of the room. The blacksuit marches at my side, and I wonder how much he might have heard from that office. He leads me down the hall, all the way back to the hatches in the ground.

One of them waits, open, at my feet.

I finally look to the soldier, not wanting to forget who I’m really fighting for. I recognize him, one of the two that met me at the Black Fort yesterday.

He directs a short nod at me.

I manage a smile. A weak one, but still better than nothing.

I clamber down into the hole in the ground, not looking up until after the hatch closes above me, sealing me in complete darkness. I can’t see the hatch, or anything else.

Staring up, shapes seem to move around me. The slithering spectres remain just out of sight, making the chamber seem much larger than it really is. The thought constricts my throat, and breath won’t come to me.

I’m back in the dark, in the ground, and I’m going to die here.

I stumble away and my back hits the wall. The darkness settles as if it never moved, my fear releasing its hold on my lungs. Scared of the dark. Scared of the underground. Scared of Cross. 

Why did this have to be the universe I’m stuck on?

I need to keep busy. I’ve been here for less than a minute, and I’m already on edge. Though I know the hole’s dimensions from past experience, I map out the tiny cell with shaking hands. If nothing else, this assures me that nothing is hiding here. 

There’s simply not enough room.

I sit against the wall opposite the hole that calls itself a toilet. I try to fill the silence, recalling songs I love and whistling the ones I can’t. My voice shakes, but the sound itself keeps my breathing steady. Eyes closed, I hope to convince myself that I’m back home.

I almost can.

The clammy sweat on my skin lingers, the scent of decay reaching its slimy fingers even here, all of it reminds me of where I am. The nectar, clinging to everything like the sticky residue of tobacco, threatens to seep through my very skin.

My voice catches, but I don’t open my eyes. The quiet lasts too long, and I can’t think of another tune to replace it with.

“Sawyer?”

My fear drains away, and I cock my head uselessly. The voice didn’t come from within the cell, so my ears won’t help me here. I rest my head back against the wall, allowing my awareness to leave my body.

I stand above myself, looking down where I’m still shrouded in inky shadow. With a breath, I look up and flash out of the cell. I’m met with a blur of color as I rush along the corridors, up an elevator shaft, and into the empty yard.

The lockdown is still in effect, so there’s only one place he could be. 

I rise in the air, scanning the cells until I find him on the fourth floor. Approaching the cell, I find Connor pacing. Dominic lounges on the top bunk, listening to the words tumbling out of Connor’s mouth.

“… for hours and all I’ve gotten from them is flashes. Something’s wrong.”

“It really hasn’t been that long,” Dominic interjects, but Connor doesn’t seem to hear him.

“All of this is just—I don’t know—but the blacksuits haven’t told me anything.” He pauses, looking out at the quiet yard. I follow his line of sight to see a small gathering of soldiers down below. “Maybe I was wrong about them, their loyalty.”

That’s enough of that.

I slink into the cell, reaching out to Connor. The rigid set of his shoulders loosens, and he leans into the hand I rest on the small of his back. He exhales slowly, releasing his tension in a shuddering sigh.

“Connor?”

I glance over my shoulder to see Dominic watching Connor, his brow creased. Connor looks back, too, much less annoyed than I am to have him here.

“It’s them. They’re okay.”

His words of reassurance could be directed at either of them, though Dominic does seem to relax further. He sinks deeper into his thin mattress, turning his eyes away from Connor. He gives a soft acknowledgement, but seems to ignore us otherwise.

I do the same, not wanting to dwell on him more than I must. I turn back to Connor, trailing a finger over a bruise forming on his jaw. That’s my fault. I try to ignore it.

“Did you miss me?” I tease, instead. 

His answering grin is marred by another puff of breath leaving him, this time tied with the essence of regret. When he speaks, they are words that only I can hear, shared through our mutual connection.

“You are okay, right? It was taking awhile, and I wasn’t sure—”

“You know better,” I interrupt, weaving around him. “I’m always fine, remember? I got distracted by a conversation with Cross.”

His brow furrows. “What did he say?”

“He was friendly—as friendly as he can be, I guess.” I pause, considering my words carefully. “He told me that I could switch sides.”

“What?”

“I know. He threw me in here to think things over.”

He sinks onto the bottom bunk, an audible hum emitting from his mind—better than the sparking barrier from before, at least. I cup his cheek, and he looks up. I know he can’t see me, but the concern crackling between his skin and my fingers lets me know that he feels me here.

“Hey,” I murmur, pressing my lips against his forehead, mirroring his go-to method of chasing my worries away. “Everything will be fine.”

“Something feels different this time.” He looks back out to the yard, and I follow his gaze, dropping my hand. Everything looks normal to me. “I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s wrong.”

That, at least, is a concern I can address.

“Cross is doing something. Turning the new blacksuits against me.” Connor’s gaze flicks back toward me, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know the details, just what the kids have told me, but he’s up to something down here.”

He nods, flinty determination echoing hollowly from his thoughts to mine. I don’t know what he could possibly be thinking beyond that, with his teeth worrying at the corner of his lip and his eyes focused once again at the dusty yard.

We sit in silence, and I relax as the cold waves pouring from my friend gradually ease until I can’t feel his thoughts anymore. I brush a hand through his hair, sad to see those sandy curls dull and limp from so long in the prison.

He turns to me, his eyes focused somewhere to my right. “You have a plan, right? For when we get out of here?”

I nod, though I know he can’t see it. I don’t know how much I should tell him, if I want this to go right. I have to hide so much from the others for this to work.

I remember what I told Cross, that I would never stand with him again. I’ll be lying to everyone so much if I go through with this, and Connor deserves better than that. He deserves to know, in case something goes wrong.

More importantly, in case it goes right.

“Of course,” I answer, finally. “But first, we need to get you out of the prison. I won’t be going with you.”

He isn’t happy about my plan, as I tell him more about it, but he eventually agrees that it’s the best chance we’ve got. I’m glad, because it looks more and more like I won’t have much choice about destroying Cross fully at the end of this.

I should have realized a long time ago that this isn’t a game anymore.

~-S-~

All too soon, I know that I have to go. I can’t stay away from my body for too long, not with the dangers of solitary hanging as a threat, and I still want to have a listen around the prison.

I’m not surprised, upon hearing the complaints, at what I hear.

Of course, Cross had to make them hate me more than they already do. I need to figure out how to deal with that. Kevin—if he’ll even help anymore—can only do so much against a mob of angry kids.

And these kids are more than just angry.

To them, I’m just another piece of the machine that sent them down here for a lifetime. There’s no way to explain to them that I’m not Jessica Furnace, that I want to tear down Cross just like them, or that I’m trying to get them out of here.

They wouldn’t believe me anyway, if I told them the truth. Even if they were real people, they would want a scapegoat.

With no further business in the yard, I open my eyes to snap back into solitary. The darkness hits me like a punch, the negative of the brightly lit yard flashing when I blink.

I rub my eyes, stretching. Everything is sore, between work this morning and the fight, exhaustion seeps its way into my bones. I might have healed my injuries, but the strain on my mind and body are finally catching up to me.

I should try to stay awake as long as I can, though, even if the thought of being here sends my heart racing again. If I wait, maybe I won’t even notice two days passing.

Wishful thinking, of course. Though it feels like hours, as Connor said, I doubt I’ve been here for more than one. Time stands still around here.

I’m still processing my options when the first tendrils of thick darkness begin creeping from the edges of my vision. Irritably, hoping to postpone the fear that comes with the hallucinations in the hole, I swat through the things to disperse them. More appear, and I feel as though I’m being watched.

“It’s not real,” I mutter. “Super fake. Not real.” 

I continue the short phrase under my breath, still trying to come to a decision. The darkness weaves around me until it pushes at my mouth and nose, threatening to suffocate me. My mantra never wavers, though the sense of claustrophobia diminishes my resolve.

It’s not real.

A laugh that I can’t really hear sounds through the cell, then:

“Are you sure?”

I don’t hear it, not really, but my mouth goes dry at the words. I turn to be faced with an echo of an old memory. I know that it’s not the real thing, not even in this world made up of dreams and make believe, but it hits me just as violently.

It’s not real.

I don’t realize that I’m backing away until I’m stopped by the wall.

The figure approaches, emitting harsh light that keeps it in sharp relief, and I slide down the barrier. The way it moves, too long arms jutting out from a twisted body, sends my heart into my throat. 

I bury my head in my arms, pulling myself into a tight ball against the wall. My lips form the familiar words, but my voice can no longer support them.

I promise, it’s not real.

With my eyes screwed shut, I cower from what stands before me. Its coal eyes, the thick ichor spilling from its childish smile. Even thinking of the shade that has joined me in the cell sends a sob racking my body. A mile under the Earth, far from any help, I hide desperately from a mere shadow of what I once allowed myself to become.

None of this is real.

~-S-~

I don’t know when I fell asleep, or how long I’ve been out. My dreams have been scattered and abstract, but the taste of death lingers in my mouth. When I wake fully, I don’t dare open my eyes or move. I force myself to swallow the panic upon remembering the events leading to my nap.

I can’t afford to make a sound.

The thundering of heavy feet and distant gunshots tell me the children Cross named rats have attacked the compound. The slightest movement could alert them to my presence; I silently pray that they haven’t noticed me already. They would tear me apart as I am now.

I take a shaky breath and try to calm down. I need to find peace or I’ll really be trapped.

I think of home, knowing that I want to be proud of myself when I finally return there. My family, not even aware that part of me is hidden in the recesses of my mind. They must see me every day, not realizing how much I miss them. The thought tears at my heartstrings, so I try a different tact.

Gentle breaths, shallow but content. The form of a young cat curled in a ball replaces that of my sister. Dipper’s purr is strong, and the white designs curling through his gray fur has me smiling. Even from so far away, I can nearly feel the soft comfort of his presence.

Holding onto the feeling, I separate my mind from my body and allow the thought of my little boy to fade away. Hesitantly, I peer out of the cell. I squint in the light, but the corridor is empty for now. 

There’s no immediate danger.

It’s another ally to visit, long overdue, that has me traveling through the tunnels. I wind my way down the passageway, stopping only briefly outside of Cross’s quarters to find it vacant. I share a brief smile with the void before moving on. 

I hope the rats get him.

I fly along the corridor, finding the broken door beyond which the tunnels of unmapped caves lay. A bright, open cavern lit by halogen lamps shows the cracks in the wall in sharp relief.

One of these cracks is deeper than it seems, and I pass through it. Up a hill and deeper into the darkness and the caves, I try to remain calm. If I don’t, I’ll end up back in the hole with nothing to show for my excursion.

A flicker of light in a lonely tunnel is my only warning that I’ve found Simon and his friends. I stop outside the scope of the light, watching the group.

Simon carries the silver eyes of the blacksuits, showing his unfortunate history in the infirmary. His legs, his body, and one of his arms bulge from his surgeries, the scars barely hidden by the shredded overalls he wears. 

The last time I saw him, Jay had finished the last procedure to return his limbs to as near their original size as possible.

He was healing, and he chose to come back to this. What could Connor have possibly said to convince him to return here? Even with the comfort of knowing he can return to his own life in the Cube afterward, why would he come back?

The other two, Ozzie and Pete, gather on the opposite side of the dim flashlight. Ozzie, a skinny kid that might as well have come straight from gen-pop, stares at the light as if in a trance. Pete, on the other hand, carries the weight of a bloated, scarred torso while his limbs remain that of a child.

My form wavers, the thought of Cross tearing my old friends apart nearly sending me back to the hole. Instead, I drift to Simon’s side and murmur in his ear.

“Simon.” 

He jumps violently, sweeping the darkness with his needle-eyes as he stands. The others ask him what happened, but he doesn’t answer. I hum, trying to calm him. His eyes fall on the space in which I hide, still panicked. 

“It’s me.”

At that, he pauses. He turns back to the other boys, kneeling back down to their level. He tells them to wait, that he’ll come back soon. The moment he turns around to face me in the darkness, a weak smile greets me.

“You okay?” He whispers as we pass further out of earshot. I follow him into the gloom.

“Yeah, fine. I’m stuck in solitary and thought I would check in with you.” He gives my general direction a sharp look, missing by a few meters.

“You should be careful.”

“It’s two nights for a fight I wasn’t even in.” I pause, a scream cutting the air near my cell. “I don’t want to listen to them tear each other apart.”

“What, the rats? I'm surprised you care,” he says, though his conviction is weaker than I would have thought.

I remain silent, mulling over my answer. We reach The Steeple before I come up with anything. The rock goes up into infinity, and I focus on that endlessness when I speak.

“They’re all my children, after everything I’ve been through with them. The rats don’t know any better.” I sigh, looking back at him. “I’m a worse bleeding heart than ever.”

“Maybe it’s better for them to die.” His voice echoes in the cavern, reaching up to the unseen ceiling. “You know better than me what a rat lives with.”

I nod, thinking of the apparition from my cell. I’ve almost crossed that line more than once. I look to him, only knowing where he is from the shine of his eyes. I nearly ask him, finally, why he came back, but the sound of screeching metal from my cell distracts me.

“Shit, I have to go.”

I don’t have time to explain, returning with a blink to my cell. I scramble to my feet, not sure how well I can defend myself against a rat. No nectar, already weak, I brace myself against the light of the opening hatch.

#writing #my writing #bf #maddart #sawyer #connor #madd #bf writing #the collective

[maarmendes]

Paroxysm » 11: Closure

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, mental illness… (the main characters are kinda feral).

Genre: OC insertion; angst; fluff.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x OC [Anahita Shuzenji]

Word Count: 1825

Tags: @bnhabookclub​

[Wattpad Link]

Let me know if you want to be tagged when I update!

After declaring our victory, Midnight woke Sero up and dragged us both to the nurse's office. Sero recovered quickly with just a couple of scratches and bruises, probably from me throwing him out the finish line. I was resting in bed hugging my stomach and watching my grandma cleaning his cuts. The boy turned to me with a grin and a thumbs up.

"I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't know what else to do..." I mumbled.

"Stop apologizing! I'm the one that didn't follow the plan, sorry about that." He scratched the back of his neck. "If it wasn't for you... Well, thanks."

I smiled and offered my fist to him, who happily bumped his fist on mine. I mocked a cry of pain and we both laughed a bit, which did hurt my stomach. Once patched up he bowed his farewell and left me to nap in peace but Nana didn't let me sleep before scolding me for pushing myself too far. She didn't hit me with her cane too hard this time. I swear the old hag started hitting me harder when she found out I could heal faster.

I woke up when I felt the movement in the room. I noticed Nana trying desperately to give both her patients her attention on the other side of the room. I rubbed my eyes and took a better look at who she was helping, getting up instinctively ready to help.

"Midoriya? Bakugo?!" I rushed over to them.

"Ana! If you want to help check Bakugo, otherwise back off." My grandma commanded and I nodded.

As per usual, Midoriya seemed to be in a worst state than Bakugo but that doesn't mean he wasn't badly injured. The blondie didn't have many cuts out superficial wounds but he did have a few broken bones and many bruises that were starting to darken. Besides that, Bakugo was unconscious while Midoriya could still talk. I pushed back the rage at All Might for going this far, but then again that's how this school worked. Plus Ultra and beyond.

I did my best to examine and heal most of Bakugo's injuries but he'd be knocked out for longer than I assumed. He was sleeping peacefully, his expression was so serene he seemed like a completely different person. I took a warm wet towel and cleaned the dirt off of his arms softly. I took in his features, oblivious to the stern reprimand my Grandma was giving All Might on the other side of the curtain. It wasn't until I heard him state proudly how well the boys did in the face of adversity did I jump to my feet and pulled the curtain back in one sweep.

I stomped over to the giant, glaring up at him and motioning him to bow down. Then, with all my might and all the energy I had left, I pulled my fist back and punched the hero in the face. It didn't do any damage to him, it mostly hurt my hand, but it sent a clear message and the look in his eyes told me he got it loud and clear.

Don't ever hurt my friends again.

All Might's strong laughter filled the infirmary. Nana tried to get me to apologize but I didn't budge, still glaring daggers at him. The giant reassured her it was alright, saying she had "a feisty one". Indeed she did. And with that, he left. More like he left me to get scolded and be dragged back to bed to rest again. My energy was depleted when healing Bakugo and punching All Might wasn't my smartest idea. It wasn't my worst either, though.

When I woke up again, the sky was dark and Bakugo was still laying in the bed in front of mine. Nana wasn't in her chair and I thought she'd left us to sleep peacefully. I stretched and made my way to Bakugo to examine him for the fourth or maybe fifth time today. I was reaching for his abdomen when his fingers wrapped around my wrist.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting? Stop touching me." His rough tone was a contradiction to his soft touch around my wrist.

"Right." I pulled my hand back. "Sorry about that. I'm leaving then."

"No." He held my wrist again. "Stop avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you, Katsuki." He groaned, probably knowing I only call him by his name when I'm pissed off.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! You're the one who ki-" I slapped my hand over his mouth to shut him up but he pushed it away. "What? If you wanted it to be a secret, you shouldn't have done it on fucking live television. Now there's no way I could live that down."

"Well, sorry about that!" I pushed him away from me, freeing myself from his grasp. "Sorry for the inconvenience but I thought it was better to be known as the boy who got shut the fuck up by a girl than a chained feral animal. Sorry if I didn't want people to get the wrong idea about you."

I stomped away, back to my bed to grab my jacket, suddenly feeling really cold. Bakugo sat up with a grunt and glared at me.

"And who are you to make that decision?! I don't give a shit what anyone thinks!"

"They were calling you a villain, Katsuki!" I snapped, grimacing at the boy. "I've made that mistake before and I regretted it since. Yes, you're a rough little shit." He let out a warning I ignored. "But you're so much more! So hardworking and intelligent and you always do the best you can and... a-and..." I grunted in frustration. "And you just had to fuck me over, didn't you?!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Bakugo threaded carefully, now making his way towards me slowly, knowing very well I was dangerously close to a panic attack.

"Aizawa found the bag!" I yelled at him. "The bag from the station, in my locker! Only you and those low-live villains knew, so how did Aizawa find out?! You told him!"

"Ana..." Bakugo did his best to not raise his voice. "I never told him shit."

"And now you lie! Of course, you do!" I accused and watched the boy clench and unclench his fists in the air.

"You're really testing my limits, Pipsqueak!" He took a deep breath and unclenched his jaw. "Why would I tell him? What could I possibly get from that? Am I really that much of a goody-two-shoes that I'm walking around sharing free information for absolutely no reason?" Bakugo placed his hands on my shoulders and locked his now soft-looking eyes on mine. "Will you come back to earth now? You're being paranoid again, Shortie. Come back to me, please."

I tried to think hard to get the answers to all his questions but got none. Was I being paranoid? Was this another of my stupid freak-outs? Thankfully this time my quirk didn't get out of control, just my mind. I stared at my feet, still trying to get a hang of whatever the fuck was happening to me. I blew a stupid issue out of proportion for no reason. No, not for no reason. I was trying to blame it on someone else, when I was the only one to blame.

"Ana." Bakugo placed his hand on my cheek to get my attention back on him. "Was that why you disappeared?"

"I didn't disappear." I sighed and placed my hand over his, using his touch to ground myself. "Didn't he say anything? I wasn't allowed back to class. Nezu left me in Aizawa's care. I even moved in with him."

"No. I even tried your place but..." He cleared his throat. "I thought you got yourself into some deep shit. I tried asking Aizawa but the fucker told me to stay away from you." He clicked his tongue angrily.

"He's right." He aimed his glare at me. "He is! You should stay away. I already put you in a tough spot... Twice." I pushed away from him but he stayed strong, wrapping his fingers around my wrist again.

"Stop being stupid."

"I'm not stupid, Bakugo. I'm trying to keep you safe." I tried to push him away again but he didn't budge. It's not like I wanted to fight him but trying to push him away made me realize how strong he actually was and how easily he could've overpowered me every time we fought before.

"Do I look like I need protection?!" He pulled me closer to him, making me stumble into his chest. "Listen up, dipshit. I do whatever the fuck I want. I stay near whoever the fuck I want. And that so happens to be you, idiot. So deal with it."

"You're impossible, Katsuki."

"Be pissed all you want, but I'm not going anywhere. You fight, I fight, right?"

I punched his chest but he didn't budge. Instead, he sneaked his arm behind my back pulling me against him, a smug grin plastered on his face as I struggled against him. I knew I was being childish, trying to weakly fight him off when I didn't want him to leave me. But he didn't know that, and I'd never tell him that. Eventually, I caved in and wrapped my arms around his neck tightly. Another thing I'd never admit would be how much I missed him. Bakugo was always warm and familiar to me. He smelled like home and felt like safety. I guess I had a long list of things I'd never admit out loud. Once he felt I was calm, he leaned back to look at me.

"What the fuck has that zombie been feeding you? You look like you've been eating the rats in his basement!" Bakugo held my hand, bringing my wrist up to his lips and placing a soft kiss. "I'm buying you dinner." My face flared up at the contrast between his words and his gestures but it wasn't enough to throw me off my game.

"What? That's your way to ask me out on a date? Gross!" I snorted.

"So what if it is?" Bakugo didn't laugh. His seriousness crumbled down the last of my defenses and I could feel my whole face burning up as he smirked down at me. Then he snorted. I punched him over and over again in between insults as he mocked me, now howling in laughter.

[MASTERLIST] // [NEXT CHAPTER]

A/N: Hey guys! I know I'm a bit late but I wasn't really feeling this chapter, sorry! ^^' instead, I have loads of new ideas for other fanfics and short-stories!! So instead of publishing Extras in Paroxysm, I'll drop some short-stories and other fanfics every now and then hehehe follow me here and on tumblr for more updates and I hope you like my work <3 love you <3

#paroxysm #bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki #mha fanfic #bnhabookclub

[dykephannie]

REALITY OTP CH. 1

MASTER LIST. PLAYLIST. NEXT CHAPTER. PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

click here for my twitter to receive sneak peeks into next week’s chapter and special behind the scenes info!

summary: Avid fangirl Gracie Green expected that the most extraordinary thing to happen to her at Summer in the City was meeting her long time obsessions Dan Howell and Phil Lester. This proves to be untrue when a fatal virus sweeps through the convention, killing everyone except for Gracie and the very two people she was there for. The odd threesome must travel across Europe to escape an evil tyrant who has claimed the crown for herself, and face not only the dangers of this new, post-apocalyptic world, but the feelings and secrets uncovered by the life threatening journey.

Because after all, it’s the harshest conditions that reveal the deepest truths about us, truths we’re not even willing to admit to ourselves.

important note: This is a PHANfiction, as in a fanfic in which Dan and Phil will enter some sort of relationship other than friendship by the end of the story. Please do not be turned off by the presence of the original character, she is merely a platonic companion of Dan and Phil. Perspectives will switch between the three per chapter. Thank you, and enjoy.

chapter word count: 2.2k

tw: mention of fatal illness

GRACIE

The end of the world generally starts off normal for most people.

They get up, out of bed, get changed, brush their teeth. Go to school or work or get back into bed and they go about their business until the fireballs start raining and their school or their work or their house ends up a heap of ashes for some Katniss Everdeen type to stumble across twenty years after the End only to discover their rotting bones and the useless keepsakes that were the only part of them to survive.

That’s not how it went for me.

Today, August 11th, 2020, had been a day long awaited for almost a year, from the moment I sat at my computer screen after hours upon hours of waiting, eyes burning from the bright light in my dim room, finger hovering over the mouse, refreshing constantly, until the moment of satisfaction finally came. Two tickets to Summer in the City, confirmed for Gracelyn Green. Today, well, it was anything but normal.

I had called Eliza immediately, my squeals echoing around my small room, hers doing the same, if not a bit more subdued than mine. That night I started at my desk, pencil scratching against the paper, etching the outline of the familiar curls and cheekbones, suddenly inspired by the prospect of seeing that face, desperate to make a worthy gift. I remembered I had stopped at the eyes. It was the first time I had realized that those eyes didn’t quite look right. From then on in every drawing I did of him, I was never quite satisfied with the eyes.

That very same first drawing was hanging above my head, those eyes filled in with constellations. I had been staring at it all night, unable to sleep, a cocktail nerves and excitement brewing in my stomach. It was strange how one could plan a moment for six years yet still be caught so off guard when the moment drew near. I picked up my phone, just as the 5:59 shifted to 6:00. It was go time.

The blue morning light was streaming through the gaps in my blinds as I pushed aside my duvet and strode across the room to the outfit meticulously selected and draped across my couch days earlier. I called Eliza, sticking my phone under my cheek as I pulled up my ripped jeans.

“Hello?” my best friend grumbled, voice heavy with sleep.

“You're not awake yet?” I chirped, running a brush through my blonde waves.

“It’s six am, Gracie, no rational person is awake right now.”

“Come on bitch, since when are you rational?”

I heard Eliza sigh on the other end as I shifted my phone back into my hand and wandered down the hall and into the bathroom. My house was quiet save for the squeak of the floorboards under my toes and the click of the bathroom door closing. And the house stayed quiet as I spoke to Eliza behind the door, struggling to get my eyeliner just right and the morning tangles from my hair.

At around 10, Eliza pulled up in her Range Rover, honking loudly.

“Do you have your workout clothes?” my mom called as I pulled the door open extravagantly.

“Yes mom!”

“Because you have an hour of karate and then two of jiu-jitsu on the last day of your convention!”

“I know mom!”

“Have fun, be safe!”

“I will!” I shouted, closing the door behind me and shouldering my heavy backpack, full of two nights worth of clothes. Our parents had decided that 17 was mature enough to stay in a hotel alone, which meant we wouldn’t have to drive back and forth every day of the convention.

“You look cute,” Eliza said drily as I buckled in.

I glanced down at my blossom sweater. “You like it?”

“Definitely a statement.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” I leaned over and knocked the bill of her ProSyndicate snapback resting on top of her coily black hair. “You’re just as much of a total nerd as I am. More, in fact.”

“Yeah yeah, at least I don’t draw creepy fanart.”

“At least I don’t have a Call of Duty gaming channel.”

Eliza stuck her tongue out at me, dark eyes flashing in the sunlight. “How am I supposed to handle staying with you for three days straight?”

“We’ve been friends with me for eight years, I think you can manage.” I frowned. “Plus, my fanart isn’t creepy.”

Keeping an eye on the road, she reached over and pulled out the drawing of a couple lying together on a couch, long limbs intertwined, eyes closed, content and happy. “That’s creepy, Gracie.”

“It’s not,” I insisted. “It’s art.”

Eliza knew it was useless arguing with me. She leaned forward and connected her phone to Bluetooth, playing some old Lana Del Rey song.

“Is this necessary, Lize? Shouldn’t we be getting pumped up and excited, instead of listening to, like, the most depressing artist ever?”

“Well what do you want to play?”

I grinned manically, grabbing the aux cord before she could object and clicking on the playlist at the top of my Spotify.

“You’ve got to be joking,” she groaned.

“What? You like Muse!”

“Yeah, not in this context.”

It took us about an hour to drive to the ExCel Convention Center, and by the time we found parking, we had an two hours to get to the meet and greet line. The line ate up about an hour of that time, but after showing our tickets at the door and ceremoniously draping my lanyard around my neck, Eliza and I were in.

And holy shit was it glorious.

Crowds of people milled about the bottom floor. Some were dressed in dull colors despite the bright hues in their hair and the glittering piercings in their ears and noses. Others wore flowing, flowered dresses and high heeled tennis shoes, accompanied by ambitious cat eyes and smoky eye shadow. There were people in band shirts and onesies, flower crowns and combat boots. Within seconds I spotted a group of squealing kids a few years younger than me, dark black whiskers on their cheeks and familiar faces on their shirts. I was too excited to cringe, too electrified by the sea of people just like me.

And the convention center itself was magnificent. Balconies and floors stuffed with merch booths and advertisements for the newest YouTube Red shows, accosting us with either Jake or Logan Paul’s ads as soon as a corner was turned. I would’ve lived here if I could’ve, even if it meant sleeping uncomfortably close to one of the Pauls’ giant robot faces.

“Where do you want to start?” Eliza asked.

I laughed out loud. She already knew the answer. I made a beeline straight to the merch booth of my choice, bringing Eliza with me.

“Can’t we visit MatPat’s store first? They have a new Game Theorists shirt design and I want to support them but they’re limited edition…”

“Nope, not happening.” We were already in line, and a familiar face was already coming into view.

“You’re a bitch,” she grumbled, drumming her fingers against the table at the booth.

I shoved her shoulder. “Shut up, he’s coming!”

A tall man with light brown hair approached, smiling when he noticed my excited gaze. “Hey Martyn!” I told him. Practice for the real thing, practice for the real thing. “Could I get one of the new posters and a whisker hoodie in a small?”

“Sure thing.” He reached underneath the table, handing me the hoodie and the rolled up poster. I handed him my money.

“A selfie too?”

Martyn smiled and leaned across the counter, pressing my change into my hand as I snapped the photo, sending it immediately to my Snapchat story.

“Thanks dude!” I told him, collecting my merch and striding away from the merch booth, trying to mask the shaking in my hands.

“Did you just call Martyn Lester dude?” Eliza hissed as we walked away. “What are you, American?”

“Please stop reminding me of that, I’m like ten seconds away from dying of embarrassment.”

We browsed the gaming tent next, on Eliza’s not-so-polite request, only for me to watch her pick up everything within sight and promptly put it down after glancing at the price tag. I had a Princess Peach sweatshirt slung over my shoulder by the time she eventually settled on a DS pack with the new Animal Crossing.

“Mario? Really?”

“We’ve played together since the Wii game came out!” I said defensively. “It’s basically our childhood!”

“We never did beat that last world.”

“We should get on that.” I glanced at my phone. It was almost time. “C’mon Lize, we’ve got to get upstairs!” I told her, grabbing her by the wrist again and tugging her towards the nearest staircase before she could even put her change in her wallet.

We ran to the end of the end of the meet and greet line, almost colliding with a smaller girl with a flower crown clutching a colorful book in her hand nervously.

“So sorry,” I stuttered, putting my hand on her shoulder to steady myself.

“Oh wow!” she exclaimed. “You’re sunshineboyes!”

My face heated up. I had been spotted a couple times at VidCon last year, getting identified by the URL of my tumblr blog, which boasted nearly 30 thousand followers due to my fanart. Getting recognized always caught me off guard. I was just a girl that liked drawing YouTubers, not one of the YouTubers themselves.  

“Oh, uh, hey there!” I said. Eliza raised her eyebrows, turning to her phone. “It's nice to meet you!”

“I love your art so much,” she gushed. “Is that some of it in there?”

She pointed at the folder in my hand, I opened it up, flipping to my favorite drawing. The lion filling up half the frame glared back at me, across from the large blue eye and pale face and dark hair on the other side. “Uh, yeah. These are the ones I’m giving to them.”

“Wow!” she squealed. “They're even more incredible in real life!”

“Thanks, you're sweet.” I figured that was closest to the ahhhhh ty! ilysm!! sentiment I could get to in real life.  

“Can I get a selfie?” She already had her camera open.

I leaned my head against hers, smiling widely as she snapped the photo. She opened up tumblr as soon as she brought her phone down.  

“Tag me in that, I’ll follow you!” I told her. Her face positively lit up.

“Oh wow, wait until I tell my group chat that Gracie’s following me!”

I blushed again, turning back to Eliza, who was still glancing down at her phone, amused.

“What?” I hissed.

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just funny, that’s all.”

We chatted amongst ourselves for another hour, waiting as the line slowly grew larger behind us, and my hopes slowly grew higher. My heart was nearly hammering in my chest, and I had to concentrate on taking deep breaths or risk hyperventilation. I couldn’t gauge how excited Eliza was in comparison to me. Eliza claimed to only causally enjoy the pair I positively obsessed over. But I didn’t think it mattered. Meeting someone famous on any level had to be exciting.

Even more exciting, I realized as the line started to move, if they had taken up nearly six years of your life.

After another couple hours I could see the corner of a plastic tarp littered with SitC and sponsor decals, two tall, unmistakable shadows cast over it. My heart was lodged in my throat, no matter how hard I tried to swallow it down, and the warm bursts of excitement throughout my chest had turned to cold fear pumping through my veins, a cold fear that no amount of positive meetup descriptions could ease. Because what if mine went wrong? What if I accidentally blurted something out that I definitely didn’t mean to blurt out? What if instead of my totally fine fanart, I packed that one NSFW thing I did and then almost immediately deleted in fear that my mom would do a random computer check? What if I hugged them wrong? Or tripped over one of them and broke my face? Or broke their faces?! I would never be forgiven. I would go down in history as the girl who gave NSFW art to and broke the money makers of --

“Gracie!”

I blinked out of my spiral of panic. Eliza had her hand on my shoulder. “We’re next.”

The girl in front of me had just disappeared behind the tarp, and my heart had just risen even further than I would’ve thought humanly possible. I was so close. Literally a couple minutes and ten steps away from a dream that had been six years in the making…

When a loud crackling noise sounded through the convention center from the speakers in the ceiling.

“Attention Summer in the City guests and staff. Please remain calm. We have just been notified of a fast traveling, fatal virus spreading through London. We are putting the ExCel Center under quarantine. Attention Summer in the City…”

It took just a second to process before the ground under my feet began to spin. Eliza was clutching my arm tightly, nearly cutting off the blood flow with her sharp nails. The shadows were disappearing behind a closed door. Screams were echoing through the center, drowning out the calm drone of the PA system.

But honestly I barely registered the fact that my death might be creeping up on me with every breath I inhaled.

I was just pissed that I wouldn’t get to meet Dan and Phil.  

#ohhhh boy here we go #i'm so nervous about this guys #i'm so excited to share this with y'all #(as i've literally been working on it for over a year) #but i've been feeling very subconscious about my writing as of late #and this is the biggest thing i've ever done with the intention of posting? #i don't know i hope at least someone will enjoy it #and to that someone... #welcome to the crazy wild ride that is reality otp! #reality otp #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #phan angst #phan fluff #phan smut #(eventually lol) #franfic

[wildlyhardphilosopher-blog]

obedience training for puppies | puppy wont walk on leash

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obedience training for puppies | puppy wont walk on leash

Keep a schedule Self-Publish with Us HomeoPet (5) (1) You said potty first thing in the morning. Let’s say 7:30 am. Then if I feed him at 7:45, does he need to potty again before 8:00, less than half an hour from the previous go? Pet Health GIVE A GIFT (Left) Remember, very young puppy’s need a lot of rest, crate training takes advantage of this need. As soon as the pup awakens take it outside. Walk him on leash until he goes, then praise him happily. Encourage him with an expression, “Do your business,” “Go pee,”. Both are popular commands. Be consistent with your reward. By Category Potty training is obviously one of the first things you’ll want to teach your puppy. If done properly, potty training is not difficult. The key is to be consistent. Yes! We board. We have two options. Our “Stay and Play” option or our “Suite only” option. Sarah Richardson, PhD, CPDT-KA, CDBC, CSAT, is the owner of The Canine Connection, a boarding, training, and daycare facility in Chico, California. Over the past 12 years, she and some of her assistant trainers have often modeled for photos that illustrate articles in WDJ, but this is the first article that Richardson has written for WDJ! Experts recommend that you begin house training your puppy when he is between 12 weeks and 16 weeks old. At that point, he has enough control of his bladder and bowel movements to learn to hold it. Take your pup out in the car for short trips. Not only does this get puppies used to car travel, but also gives them the chance to see the world. It also gets them used to loud motorbikes, lorries, sirens etc. Housesoiling is also a temporal problem: either the puppy is in the wrong place at the right time (confined indoors with full bladder and bowels), or the puppy is in the right place at the wrong time (outdoors in the yard or on a walk, but with empty bladder and bowels). Respond immediately and consistently to the bad behavior. As soon as you see your puppy acting up, remove it to the time-out spot. Be sure to do this every time you notice the bad behavior. HomeAbout wikiHowJobsTerms of UseSite MapMobile view Articles Congratulations! You’ve just entered the Twilight Zone. In a good way, of course. For the next 10 or more years, you are going to have more fun and love and licks than you know what to do with. Let me help you get started with the first month, and then you and your puppy will be off and running to a great life together. Judges Education – AKC Canine College Sign up Jerseys & Team Sports ALERT Next ► Michelle Schreiber This is Zoe. She is my dogs’ biggest cheerleader!! Pet Insurance STAR Puppy Class Tagged: housetraining, potty training, dogs, puppy training, puppies, puppy, dog training, puppy training los angeles Fertility Quiz How to toilet train your puppy Join Hill’s® My Pet Companion Some puppy’s go 2 minutes after eating, some after half an hour. This is how you find out. When you start to house train, follow these steps: Dog Training and Puppy Obedience Classes Offered at Our Clinic × Berkeley Teach your dog to Give It or Drop It. This command is necessary in case you need your dog to drop something she’s picked up off the floor that she shouldn’t eat or if you want her to give you a toy, piece of food or your shoe that she’s chewing. Microcyn Stock AKC Canine College Tap the cushion and instruct “Up.” PUPPY START RIGHT FOR INSTRUCTORS AKC S.T.A.R. Puppy LATEST NEWS 148 Wild Bird Time: 2018-07-27T05:34:27Z Zak George’s Dog Training Revolution: The Complete Guide to Raising the Perfect Pet with Love Kindle Edition Tips to Better Manage Your Migraine Reward good behavior. Always praise good behavior with lots of gentle love and cuddles. Use rewards effectively to reinforce good behavior. For example, if your dog successfully responds to your request to drop a toy, say, “yes!,” or “good boy!” Verbal rewards work well when you’re playing and may have your hands full of toys.[8] Training For Life Nature’s Miracle (3) The best dog crates Sign Up Rally FrEe The Perfect Dog (2) copyright information (84) Weikel added, “The tool they were using was a Wiffle bat that had been modified to cause a snap, you would say, but no harm to the animal. It’s more loud that anything.” Potty training Stage 1 – establish the toilet area Vote Up13Vote Down  Reply © Depositphotos.com / Madrabothair 3.9 out of 5 stars Estate Planning whether I am with them or not. They’re also doing just fine with the other aspects of clicker training. Book Get A Quote Expert Blogs Coastal Pet Products Start reading Puppy Training on your Kindle in under a minute. However, I’ve purposely made this ‘how-to‘ guide as complete and standalone as possible, so reading the previous articles isn’t essential.

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fbq('track', 'ViewContent', content_ids: 'dogtraining.dknol', ); A one-on-one session for PetsHotel guests only. While your dog visits us at PetsHotel or Doggie Day Camp, our Accredited Trainers can help your dog master good manners and basic cues during a private session. We’ll take the hassle out of training, while your pet is in our care. 15.96 My PetCareRx Points Small Pets News & Experts For example, maybe your child opens the door for the mailman, and the puppy dashes out. Or the little guy decides to make friends with the black and white stinky visitor—skunk!—and you notice too late in the backyard. Even tiny puppies travel faster on four pudgy paws than people, so there’s no way to catch him—and in fact, chasing a puppy becomes a racing game you won’t win. Teach “come” and your new pup will stay safely within reach, even without the benefit of a leash. Remember, you must be the one who sets the limits of ALL good and bad behavior. Helping Your Dog Overcome His Fear of Water Between 8 and 12 weeks (when weeing seems spontaneous), my puppy spends a fair bit of time in there and I paper train them to use puppy pads. How to Potty Train a Small Dog or Puppy in a Big Home Don’t try to teach tricks. Your puppy may be able to pick up a few things, like “spin”, but she is still not as coordinated as an adult dog and some movements are difficult for her. If she becomes frustrated she is going to be more difficult to train later on. SUBSCRIBE (Left) OR More Contact Options Learn at your own pace, through 7 lessons and 20 coordinated learning goals, with many videos and hands-on exercises―in as little as six weeks. Your teacher and classmates are there to support you all along the way! Pets 101 toggle menu My newsletters SDT believes in helping you create an unbreakable bond with your dog and a relationship of love and mutual respect. We also believe in utilizing positive reinforcement, structure, appropriate discipline and good clear communication between you and your pet to achieve the finest results. Your canine is unique for many reasons: breed, age, appearance, genetics, environment, past experiences and general personality. For this reason, we believe in customizing canine training programs that fit your puppy and your lifestyle. Puppies have immature digestive systems, so they can’t really handle a lot of food. That’s why it is recommended that you break up the feedings into three small meals. Another thing to keep in mind is the food itself, which should be the highest quality. Whatever you choose, make sure it agrees with your puppy. R&R Belgian Sheepdog AKC Canine Retreat Finnish Lapphund Puppy Development Muse® Use an extra-long “training lead” to practice recall in public places. Start by giving your dog five feet to roam, and practice calling him back to you for a squeaky toy. Add length until he’s at the end of the lead. If you’re calm, your puppy will be less excitable. And please, no yelling — your puppy is just a baby. Remember, you are teaching your pup how to do things correctly because it does not know any better, the poor thing. With house training, the fewer mistakes you allow your puppy to make and the more they are rewarded for doing the right thing, the quicker they will learn and the faster you will find success. Home, Yard, and Beyond In-home obedience will teach your dog the essentials. Dog Love TRAINING APPLICATION Academy for Dog Trainers Slideshow Things That Can Hurt Your Joints GG Subscribe to Petwire Newsletter Monday – Friday 7am – 7pm Grain Free Food With house training, the fewer mistakes you allow your puppy to make and the more they are rewarded for doing the right thing, the quicker they will learn and the faster you will find success. What type of crate or confinement area works best? This method of training a puppy to walk on a leash is suited to very young puppies, it requires no pulling from you or your dog. The result is a nice loose leash hanging down between you and your dog. All it takes to achieve this is to follow the above steps, then apply some patience and persistence. Please read this article for leash training older dogs. You can also teach your puppy or older dog to walk on a loose leash using a clicker – loose leash walking. puppy training videos | puppy training videos puppy training videos | best way to train a puppy puppy training videos | crate train puppy Legal | Sitemap

#how to train puppy to walk on leash #how to train your puppy not to bark

[champhangman]

Reckless

Characters: AJ Styles x OFC x Baron Corbin

Summary: The newest woman on the roster finds herself making waves she never intended to, with men that are both off-limits to her.

Warnings: Cursing. Slight(?) dub-con.

Notes: First attempt at a multi-part fic here on tumblr. The ideas have been swirling around for a while now and I'm finally committing to them. Let me know whether or not it's worth continuing.

Tagging: @llowkeys @the-geekgoddes​ @blondekel77 @horcruxhunter5972 @zombiexbody​ @vebner37​ @nickysmum1909​ @imtoldimbabe​ @taryndibiase​ @justtrey19​ @alexahood21​ (I think I got everyone! If I didn’t, please let me know!)

Part 1/?

"Are ya excited?"

Bottle of water halfway to her mouth, Kim Miller turned and smiled at the sight of Becky, Charlotte, and Naomi entering her dressing room. She barely had time to set her water down before Becky caught her in an exuberant hug. Laughing, she returned the embrace, greeting Charlotte and Naomi with one as well. She reached for her water again, knowing by now that it would do little to calm the butterflies in her stomach, but having no clue as to what else she could do.

"I'm a nervous wreck," she admitted. Her debut on Smackdown Live would happen in about – she looked at her watch and groaned – five hours and she was already anxious. No one aside from the other women involved knew about her planned run-in. Which was just how the higher ups wanted it. As such, she had been all but locked in the tiny dressing room since arriving at the arena two hours before. She didn't understand all the secrecy. She'd been to random live events and even TV tapings many times over the past few months, as well as still appearing at NXT shows.

"It'll be fine," Naomi promised. "The audiences already love you."

"They were chanting for you just last night on Raw," Charlotte pointed out.

"Raw fans are gonna be pissed," Becky laughed. "But seriously it's fine. When ya get out there you'll forget everything."

Kim knew that was true. Taking a sip of her water, she recalled the butterflies before her first NXT live event. And the butterflies before her first NXT taping. Truth be told, she'd had butterflies before every show since first stepping into a ring for the WWE. "I know," she murmured, sinking onto the small couch provided by the arena. Between it and the little desk she had commandeered for her makeup and ring gear, there was barely room for her to turn around, especially with three other women with her. Smiling as Charlotte and Becky squeezed in on either side of her, she shook her head. "You guys are the best."

"Of course we are." Charlotte reached to flip her hair back, then thought better of it and dropped her arm around Kim's shoulder. "And now you're one of us."

"One of us, one of us, one of us," Naomi and Becky chanted softly.

"Just focus on what you have to do. Don't think about the thousands of people in the arena, or the millions watching on TV—" Charlotte clapped a hand over her mouth.

Kim felt her stomach plummet, and stared at the blonde. "Really?!"

"Ignore her," Naomi insisted. She moved to sit on the couch, then instead flopped across their three laps, paying no attention to their sounds of protest. "Like Becky said, all of that will disappear when you go through that curtain."

"And then you'll be kicking ass," Charlotte added. "So you won't even be thinking about the crowd anyway."

"Don't ya mean kicking lass?" Becky asked, grinning.

"Don't go there, Lynch," Naomi warned. Patting Kim's cheek, she rolled off their laps and hopped to her feet. "Now c'mon, let's go work on our bit."

"I'm not allowed to leave," Kim pointed out.

"That's ridiculous." Charlotte pushed Kim to her feet then stood as well. "You've got to be allowed to go down to the ring and get some practicing in."

"But—"

"Don't worry, I'll take the blame." Naomi tossed her hair back and opened the door. "Besides, it's not like you've never been at a show before. They're just paranoid someone's going to spoil the surprise."

Urged along by Charlotte and Becky, Kim followed Naomi out into the hall. Even though she'd been at SmackDown and Raw shows before, she was still unused to the hum of activity. Once they rounded the corner and were in the main corridor it was impossible to think. Crew members were setting up the backstage interview area. Just audible among the clatter of equipment and conversations was the steady hum of a sewing machine. She recognized a few of the faces they passed.

"Oh yeah! Kim is here! Kim is here!" A pair of arms caught her by the waist and lifted, spinning her in the center of the hallway. Her first instinct was to slam an elbow but she quickly recognized the voice and, grinning, looped an arm around Sami Zayn's neck as he continued to spin her.

"Sami!" she yelped when he squeezed her tight. Slightly dizzy when he set her down, she grabbed his arm for stability and glared up at him. "Are you going to do that every time I'm at SmackDown?"

Sami grinned, tousling her hair. "Yep."

"You're terrible," she muttered, giving him a quick hug. "It's good to see you, too."

"You debuting tonight?"

"Ha, I wish," she snorted. "Just came to hang out with the girls."

"They better put you on SmackDown," Sami said.

"Talk to your Papa H?" Kim suggested with a sweet smile. "And I've gotta go, we're going down to the ring to work on some moves."

"Catch you later," he said, tousling her hair once more. "Oh, wait," he added when she began to walk away. Once she'd turned to face him, he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Corbin's out there."

Of course he was. She shrugged lightly. She would have to get used to it. And so would Baron "I can deal. See you."

"You and Baron?" Charlotte asked softly as they continued making their way to the Gorilla. The room had already been set up, and when they walked through the curtain Kim saw audio techs connecting headsets to the monitors.

"It was a brief thing." Kim waved to Hunter, then followed Becky and Naomi out into the arena. "Barely a fling, really. Zayn's just a worrywart."

"Was it serious?"

Kim stopped at the top of the ramp. Down in the ring, she could see him. He was going through moves with Kevin Owens. Her heart began to thud nervously in her chest. "No," she finally murmured, forcing herself to look away from him. "It wasn't."

Charlotte looked at her skeptically, but nodded as though she believed her.

They approached the ring, Kim's feet feeling like lead with each step. She paused at the apron, eyes on her former boyfriend. Fling, she reminded herself. He'd never been her boyfriend. He and Kevin were locked up in the center of the ring, and she could just hear Kevin's voice describing what they would do next.

Baron lifted his head and Kim quickly looked away before their eyes could meet. She sensed a chill in, and heard the thud of bodies meeting the mat. When she dared a glance, he was looking straight at her. He rolled to the edge of the ring and beneath the bottom rope, eyes never leaving her as he exited the ring and straightened up. "Kim."

"Baron."

"Hey, we're not finished," Kevin called from the ring.

"Later," Baron said. "I've got to go do something."

"What?" Kevin asked, hopping out of the ring and grabbing a towel that was resting on the apron.

Avoid me, Kim thought, finally looking away from Baron. She softly returned Kevin's greeting, aware of his eyes on her. Bouncing the toe of one shoe against the floor, she waited until she heard their voices fade as they went up the ramp before heaving a sigh.

"Not serious?" Charlotte whispered beside her.

"Not to him," Kim replied sadly. Then, forcing a smile, she bounded up the steps and into the ring. "C'mon, let's do this!"

***

She supposed her debut had gone over well. The cheers of the crowd, which had started when she'd rolled into the ring during the women's match to attack Charlotte and Naomi, and reached a crescendo when she'd thrown back the hood of her black sweatshirt, still rang in her ears as she left Gorilla. She had pre-taped a segment that would air after commercial break, giving Dasha the reason for her attack, and was now going to be idle until it was time to leave.

"You looked great out there."

Kim skidded to a stop at the sound of Baron's voice. Turning, she saw him leaning against one of the crates pushed to the wall. She supposed the joy of her debut had kept her from seeing him. Moistening her lips, she pushed back the memories of all the other times he had told her she looked great out in the ring. "Thanks."

"So you're officially Team Blue now?" he asked. Pushing away from the crate with ease, he moved towards her.

"I'll be getting the logo tattooed on my ass tomorrow," she joked. This was easy. She could do this. Talk about work. Keep it professional. Don't think about the past. Focus on the future. They had once been friends. They could be friends again – No, she told herself. They couldn't be friends again. Friends had led to—

"I've missed you, Kimmy."

Blinking in surprise, she stared at him. He was ready to go into the ring, save for the knit beanie. She recognized it as one she'd made for him. He had so many, did he know it was the one she'd given him? And did he really miss her? Or did he miss how convenient she had been? Dropping her gaze, she gave her head a little shake.

"Kimmy—"

"Don't," she whispered, finally meeting his eyes. "Please don't bring this up now."

"When?" he asked. "You haven't answered my calls or replied to my texts in three months."

"I guess you know, since you're the king of avoiding someone."

"Kimmy," he sighed.

"I thought you didn't want anything to do with me? You said that, remember? Because—"

"I was wrong."

That gave her pause. Pressing her lips together, she inhaled deeply. "What?"

"Seeing you out there…" He smiled, reaching for her. "It reminded me of how much fun we had together. And it made me realize how much I've missed you."

"Baron… Damnit," she muttered. It felt natural to be in his arms again. The disparity in their heights had never bothered her. Or him. He felt the same, miles of lean muscle and endless strength. He smelled the same. And, when he lowered his head and kissed the top of her head, she felt herself start to cave. They'd had fun together. Lots of fun. In and out of the bedroom. Guided by him, she backed up to a crate. Before she could tell herself not to, she leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. He turned at the last second and she froze as their lips met.

The next thing she knew he was pulling her up. Her legs instantly went around his waist for support, hands gripping his biceps. His lips and tongue were lurid reminders of all the things she had tried to forget over the past six months.

"You miss this," Baron told her between kisses.

"No," she disagreed with a shake of her head, even as her fingers bunched in the hem of his shirt and pushed it upward. "I don't."

"You grinding on my dick right now says you do." His next kiss was harsher. Her hands flailed, grabbing at his shoulders as she was pushed against the wall.

Maybe she had missed this. The fervency. The need. She rolled her hips, hating her body for wanting him so badly but unable to stop herself. Then, when his lips moved to her throat, she stared at the ceiling and cold reality began to seep in. But she remained silent, knowing that no amount of words would stop him. She had to try, though. "Baron… Stop," she said, pushing at his shoulders.

"Why?" he asked, tongue finding that spot just beneath her ear that sent tremors down her spine.

"Because," she whined, clenching her eyes shut. "I can't do this—"

He pressed his hips to hers, pinning her more securely against the wall. She involuntarily shivered. "You sure about that?"

"Baron, stop," she insisted, voice unintentionally louder this time. His hands were on her thighs, squeezing. They slid up, fingers stroking all the right places. She felt herself start to give in, knowing he could make her want him.

"I believe the lady said to stop."

Kim's eyes flew open at the sound of another voice in the hallway. She felt Baron tense, then suddenly he was pushing away from her. She barely had time to catch herself and slumped drunkenly along the wall. The stirrings of desire she had felt were replaced with dread, and she carefully rose to her feet. She couldn't see around Baron's large frame but was afraid to move.

"Who asked you?" Baron sneered. He shifted, which allowed Kim to see the man who'd intruded.

AJ Styles. Shit, she thought, closing her eyes briefly. She had never really interacted with the man before. They'd been introduced during Mania week, and she had seen him now and then backstage at SmackDown shows she went to. She could count on one hand the times he had spoken to her after their first meeting. She opened her eyes, biting the inside of her lips. She had thought him laidback and personable when she'd met him.

He didn't look so laidback now. He was in his gear, and she remembered he was in the main event. His expression was impassive. His blue eyes were darker than she remembered, although at the moment she couldn't recall the exact shade of his eyes. He tugged at his gloves, the movement bringing her attention to his exposed shoulders and biceps, which flexed with each minute movement. Although he was considerably shorter than Baron, she had the sudden feeling that AJ could take the taller man down with no trouble whatsoever.

"Nobody asked me," he said, his voice even. "But when a lady says stop, you're supposed to."

"It's none of your business, Styles." Baron squared his shoulders. "So fuck off, alright?"

AJ's head tilted slightly. Kim, still leaning against the wall, was surprised to find he was looking at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, carefully stepping away from Baron. She could feel his anger and half-expected him to grab her arm to keep her with him, but he did nothing. "I'm fine."

"You sure, sweetie?"

"I'm fine," she insisted, hugging herself once she'd stepped away from the wall. "Thank you."

"This is bullshit," she heard Baron mutter. Looking at him, she watched him push his hands through his hair. Then his gaze swiveled in her direction. "I'll find you later so we can talk."

She didn't bother to reply. He was already leaving, his stride easy and casual as ever. Releasing her breath slowly, she turned to look at AJ. "Thanks again."

"Is he a, uh… Friend of yours?" he asked, looking beyond her.

It occurred to her that he was making sure Baron was really leaving. Surprised by the action, she glanced over her shoulder to see Baron rounding a corner. "He used to be."

"You sure you're okay?"

When Kim turned back it was to find him looking at her. Oh, right, she realized dumbly. His eyes were that really, really light blue. "I'm sure," she promised. "And thanks. Again. Now I need to—"

"Fix your shirt?" he suggested.

"Ah, hell," she groaned, looking down to see her tank top had been pushed down so it nearly exposed her breast. When had that happened? Tugging it back into place, she made a face. "Sorry about that. And I need to go, so… Thanks." God, she'd said that at least half a dozen times by now. "I'll see you around, AJ."

"Yeah," he said, flashing a brief smile as she headed away. "See you around."

#aj styles #aj styles imagine #aj styles fanfiction #wwe #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #baron corbin #baron corbin imagine #baron corbin fanfiction #multipart:reckless

[vieuxnoyesrp]

Ches. Kira has had a special place in our heart since she moseyed her way into the Quarter, and you managed to charm us all over again with her whimsical, dreamy personality which you caught so well. Even more important to us, you managed to toe the line between inquisitive, goofy Kira, and resolute, realistic Kira, allowing room for Kira to explore who she is, what she is, and who she wants to be. The headcanons you shared with us crackled with the intensity of Kira’s potential. Portraying the many different facets of teenager is difficult at the best of times, and yet you managed to highlight Kira’s insecurities and doubts without letting them rule. We can’t wait to watch the tension of this kitsune kid discovering herself set sparks across our dash!

Ches, thank you very much for applying. As for Kira…

                         ⚜ ~ WELCOME TO VIEUX NOYÉS!!! ~ ⚜

Wondering what to do next? Click here and let the good times roll!

⚜ Roleplayer:

⤜ Name/alias: Ches

⤜ Pronouns: She/Her

⤜ Age:  22 in three months, yikes

⤜ Timezone: CST UTC-6

⤜ Activity: 6-7, I’m in school and I work weekends, but I’m home and available every night, and constantly checking tumblr throughout the day on mobile.

⤜ Best form of contact: Through tumblr messaging is fine

⤜ Any Triggers? None

⤜ How did you find Vieux Noyés? Scrolling through the witch roleplay tag

⤜ What drew you to the RP? EVERYTHING! As you can guess by the way I found the rp, I’m a sucker for anything supernatural, shows, books, roleplays. They all draw me in. This place has a triple bonus since it’s based on one of my favorite dramas, has my favorite original characters AND some I don’t recognize (then again, I really fell off the wagon with Originals, so that could be why), and all of the drama waiting to explode in that plot has me squealing with anticipation. I want to see it all, and of course throw Kira into it somehow!

⤜ What is one subplot/element from the Plot page that you are particularly looking forward to seeing in this roleplay? I guess I just answered that question. I’ve been in love with the story of the Salem witches since forever ago, so I can’t wait to see how the witchy politics turn out between them and the NOLA coven, and how that effects everyone else. Are the Salem witches really going to follow Marcel’s magic ban? Having their own power source separate from ancestral magic, I wouldn’t think so. And then there’s the revival of the Hunters Guild the plot hints at. I suppose I’m really just excited for all the political drama going on in every supernatural sub-community.

⚜ Desired Character: KIRA YUKIMURA

⤜ Why do you want this character?

Where do I start? Kira and Lydia were my favorite characters in the drama, for one. I loved their personalities and was so excited to see Kira’s growth in her abilities and coming into herself (imagine my dismay when you know what happened). Aside from the show, Kira’s personality is the type I’ve always been drawn to in roleplaying and just in reading in general. I find her type the most relatable, and their journey to discover themselves and gain confidence in their abilities is always fun to roleplay. For me, it’s fun to slowly push her out of her shell and into relationships with other people, especially when they develop into close bonds. I’m also very interested in her becoming more assertive. Even though her parents aren’t part of the roleplay (unless I missed them somewhere), that can be inserted into plots or just self-paras down the line. The added bonus is the fact that she’s a kitsune. I’ve been obsessed with Japanese folklore since I was a child, which includes the lore surrounding kitsune. Kira in particular was fascinating to me because I’d never heard of one whose powers were specifically drawn from electricity before her introduction to TW. I look forward to roleplaying her exploration of her abilities and seeing what her full potential is (especially since it was never reached in the show). That being said, I don’t intend to make her all-powerful (if I’m accepted!), but I want to roleplay her discovery of her strengths, weaknesses, limits, etc. That will probably take discussion with the admins and some research on my part, but that’s all part of what makes supernatural roleplay fun in my opinion.

⤜ What are your future plans for this character?

Again, I suppose I kind of answered this question. I really want to push Kira out of her shell and develop personal relationships, stand up for herself more, be more confident in herself, and discover just what she is and what she can do. Even I don’t know what all that is, what with this secret organization her parents are part of. Other than confidence and exploring her powers, I would love to see where she fits into all of the political tension going on in the Quarter. As an unknowing were, she’ll eventually be forced to pick a side or remain neutral, but I don’t see remaining neutral as something that’s she’s capable of for moral reasons. In the process, she might have to stand against her parents, or friends, and I want to roleplay that when the time comes. And then there’s the overall tension outside of the were community.  The Quarter isn’t that big, so I imagine every supernatural is going to get dragged into the conflict between the covens and the vampires, only for that to be exacerbated by the Hunters. She’s going to have to decide who to support or where to remain neutral based on who she wants to protect and what she feels is right, and those two might conflict each other. I really want to see that.

⤜ Put yourself in your character’s shoes. Give us a few lines to describe a day in the life of your character… Where do they live? Where and how do they spend their time?

Of course she lives in a normal neighborhood with her parents, just close enough to school that she can take her bike instead of the dreaded bus. But she really lives in the Saint Aloysuis library, furiously typing away at whatever chapter she’s currently writing and often neglecting her homework in the process.  She tells herself it’s only Calculus, which she could do in her sleep. Or it’s only another poetry analysis essay that’s much simpler to write and never as enticing as the drabble ideas and climactic plots that practically loom over her shoulder, whispering temptation into her ears as if the fox spirits from her father’s stories have come alive. She’s mastered the art of writing a passing analysis essay in one night, and an essay guaranteed to give her an A if she actually puts more effort into it. On the nights when she has some freedom or the itch to leave her room, the university’s library is open almost all night and even has a Starbucks. What more could an aspiring writer need?  Her laptop is never out of reach specifically because inspiration strikes at the most unexpected moments, and she’s learned Google Drive is much better than any notebook she might carry. It has more space for one, and offers much more security should her works fall into the hands of prying classmates or, God forbid, her mother. She’s developed a weekly time table to balance her homework with updating her Wattpad stories, and volunteering, although it’s sometimes ignored in favor of posting double updates, drabbles, or new stories she just couldn’t resist. Her writing is really the only thing she’s allowed herself to be impulsive with. That, and her visits to the animal shelter. She visits religiously twice every week, sometimes more if school or her parents are becoming just a little too stressful. There’s something about the warmth with which the shelter animals greet her, how they lovingly paw at her legs and lick her fingers that’s instantly soothing. Kira can forget all of her troubles when she’s there, and often wonders how in the world her mother could say no to having a pet? Every now and then, she likes to visit Cafe du Monde, or Jackson Park to watch the tourists. Of course, she loves her coffee, but she also occasionally indulges in people-watching. It’s great material for when she’s writing, but it’s also her guilty pleasure. Sometimes, she watches the gaggles of strangers and tells herself that day will be the day she steps out of her shell. She’ll smile and wave at a stranger, start a conversation with someone wearing her favorite band T-shirt, walk up to a girl and tell her she really likes that dress, where’d she get it? All of these hopes were pushed aside the first time she tried to smile at a stranger who proceeded to walk right by. They just hadn’t seen her, is what she told herself, but she’s still not sure and definitely not ready to try again. More than twice every month, she comes home to the disappointed gaze of her father, who’s walked past her room and been horrified at the aftermath of a morning getting dressed. Every day, Kira finds herself going through several ensembles before settling on the usual graphic tees, jeans, and converse. She’s fairly certain her flashier clothes are just as flattering as she thinks they are, but the last thing she wants is to deal with Jeremy freaking Gilbert’s immature comments. She’s known him long enough to know they’d come if she tried to change. That being said, she’s gathered her courage and worn clothes a little out of her comfort zone once or twice while visiting the park. The one time a stranger complimented her was enough to make the girl glad she’d stepped out of her shell at least this much.

⤜ Give us three headcanons regarding your character of choice. (If your character is from one of the tv shows, please come up with a headcanon that is not explicitly stated on the show, but is rather based on your own imagination.)

(This was mentioned briefly in the bio and her photoset and I love it) Kira’s a writer, although she finds it difficult to call herself that. All she does is write fanfictions under an alias online and post drabbles every now and then. She’s hardly an author, and is so unsure of herself that’s she’s never even been able to present her work to Mr. Lewis, the high school creative writing teacher. The shy little thing’s approached him with the intention of showing him her work five times in the few weeks she’s been here, only to chicken out each time because of her own worries. She relies on the mostly encouraging comments and feedback from readers online, taking it all to heart every time she writes a basic outline or character bio. Her dream is to become a professional writer, and she wants to go to school for it but she has her doubts. Not only is there her own insecurity to face, but the disapproval from her parents that’s sure to come if she tells them. So she quiets that dreamy voice in her head when the conversation comes up, instead saying she might want to become a teacher or professor like dad. It keeps them satisfied, and works as a nice backup plan. The two professions aren’t the same, but as long as she can indulge in her passion and keep her imagination alive, it’s enough for the young fox. Ever since that time she survived being electrocuted, she’s developed the hobby of chasing lightning during storms. She doesn’t do anything as poetic as dancing in the rain. The girl’s got two left feet and fell flat on her butt three too many times back when she was enrolled in basic ballet lessons. But she’s almost perfected the art of sneaking out of her room at night and racing off on her bike, chasing bolt after shimmering, ephemeral bolt until the hints of sunrise appear. She survives the day after with a cup of strong, black coffee – forcefully taken – and power naps during lunch if her body still threatens to crash afterwards. Kira isn’t quite sure what she’ll do if she actually encounters a lightning bolt one night. Touch it? The idea used to sound fatally idiotic to her, but the more she thinks about it, the more she knows, somewhere in her gut, that it just might feel right.

The one grudge she holds against her parents is the fact that they deprived her of any close familial ties. She’s an only child, she has no cousins that she knows of, and the mere hint that she might want some type of pet warrants that stony, frigid gaze from her mother that demands silence on the topic and makes her skin tingle with fear. Since Kira’s yet to make friends, she does the next best thing and hangs out at the local animal shelter often. The attendants are so familiar with her that they often ask her to come in and play with the animals when they’re short of staff. The familiarity is something Kira’s proud of, even if it’s nowhere near an actual friendship. Still, it’s more than any relationship she’s had in the past, and it’s given her someplace else she feels at home.

Kira’s romantic experience is exactly zero, zilch, nonexistent. But she’s had crushes before and feels that there’s something a little off compared to what she’s heard both from media portrayals and the few girls she’s known. There is no sexual tension or dirty daydreams for her, and the mere idea of being alone with someone in that setting and naked gives her butterflies for the wrong reasons. The extensive searching she’s done online has led her to the conclusion that she’s asexual. Of course she’s not so quick to label herself after having no actual experience. Maybe she hasn’t met the right person yet. Maybe it’s just because of her personality. But everything she’s read so far about asexuality leaves her thinking ‘That’s me’.

Kira often feels like she’s at odds with her parents, especially her mysterious mother, but she’s always had a soft spot for her father’s stories. She’s not sure if it was because he wanted to pass on a part of their heritage or because he was so passionate about them, but he’s told her tales of kumiho and kitsune for as long as she can remember. When other kids her age were listening to Harry Potter or Narnia at night, Kira was begging her father for more tales of trickster spirits luring travelers astray with the forms of beautiful women and samurai that avenged their lords at the cost of their lives. She used to enthusiastically claim she’d be a historian when she grew up just to watch her father’s eyes light up with pride. Now that’s she’s a teenager, she doesn’t lean towards that profession so strongly. However. Mr. Yukimura still finds his daughter curled up in his office with the books he used to read to her, and his tales of samurai and mythology still bring a soft smile to her lips.  

⤜ What are some plots you’d like to explore with your character?

She knows it’s not exactly smart to go wandering around the woods. In fact, it’s dangerous and more than a little stupid. But something about the densely wooded area has always drawn her in, and she’s backed away too many times to keep ignoring it. What’s more, she doesn’t want to ignore it. Something about the forest just feels right, like the feeling she gets when she’s chasing after lightning. She knows there’s more to the place than just little forest critters, having seen a pair of eyes gazing solemnly back at her more than once. They seemed so intelligent, so piercing, she couldn’t have imagined it herself. So she sets off in her rattiest jeans and the mimimum equipment to survive several hours in the forest. But what she may find is definitely beyond her expectations.

Mercy Lewis leaves Kira absolutely dumbfounded with every encounter. It’s amazing and absolutely befuddling, considering half of the time the curly-haired girl doesn’t even do much to earn the reaction. The only thing Kira is absolutely certain of is that she wants them to be friends. She will start small. She can’t follow the girl, that’d be creepy. And blatantly asking to be friends would be childish. They aren’t elementary schoolers anymore. She can, if she tries hard enough, start a real conversation, ask to meet again or even ask for her number. She’ll do things normally, she won’t rush, and she won’t chicken out like she usually does. It’s simple, and might even seem sad, making her first friend as a junior in high school. But it’s the one specific goal she has for herself (save graduating, which is a do or die thing for Kira), so she has to see it through.

I really want her first act of self-assertion to come from standing up to Jeremy, but their relationship blurb only mentions the one encounter, so that’s a tentative plot idea. Another tentative one is becoming involved in the supernatural drama going around town, but I think it would be best to wait until she’s developed other relationships to plan that one.

⤜ Para sample:

(Retained for privacy.)

⤜ Would you like to be considered for another character if not accepted as your primary choice? (If yes, name the character.)  Malia Tate?

⤜ Have you read the rules?: Yes

⤜ Anything else?

Nothing!

#lsrpg #Arden Cho #Arden Cho FC #Kira Yukimura #Kira Yukimura RP #Accepted