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just-a-quirkless-loser · 4 years

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Maybe We’re Not Meant To Be

Alpha Izuku x Omega Reader

Warning: Sexual Content Below

Word Count: 3.9K

Two years of dating Izuku was no easy task. As sweet as the man is, he often blundered when it came to the love life (or the lack thereof) the two of you shared. No one questions his devotion to you. You’re cold? Midoriya will give you the shirt off his back. You’re hungry? Midoriya runs to the nearest store to grab you something (he doesn't care if it’s miles away). Two years of dating the most considerate person in the world yet, you selfishly yearned for more.

A mating mark; a silent reminder to onlookers that you were taken by one of the most eligible alphas in Japan. You wanted your skin to be marred by his long fangs and you wanted to leave your own mark on him. But after two years of waiting, it felt as though maybe he didn’t want to mark you.

‘Maybe we’re not meant to be.’

At first, you didn’t mind that Midoriya wasn't quick to ask to bound you; it showed that he cared about you rather than force himself on you for the rest of your life. It was nice to have him court you but, you’re getting older. You never wanted to admit that biology was correct but, you felt yourself slowly facing the realities.

It’s easy to push the want away, hiding it deep in your mind to only ponder over every once in a while. But, every once in a while becomes every day. It makes you wonder if there’s something wrong with you.

You watch as all of your friends start to show off their marks, they start to get married, one by one having pups. And, you’re there for all of it. Silently cheering everyone else on from the sideline but, awaiting your turn to race.

You’re quietly bitter. All you can think about is having mini versions of Midoriya and yourself running around. What would they look like? What would they smell like? Would they want to be heroes? Your desire to have a physical manifestation of your love to care for and nurture grew. It seems like the closest you’ll ever get to that dream is when you're around other people’s pups.

“Wow, Y/N! How did you get her to be that quiet?” Uraraka asks you with an amazed expression. She watched you cuddle her close to your chest, rocking her off to sleep after her latest tantrum. “You're such a natural.”

“Thank you. I've always loved kids,” you're mesmerised by the rise and fall of the pups chest as she breathes. It’s nice having something so small depend on you.

“You’d make a great mom,” she doesn’t miss how you tense and, for the fleetest of moments, a scent of resentment seeps from your pores. Why should you have to sit and take care of someone else’s baby when you want one? “I’m sorry if I said something wrong.”

“No, no, you’re fine. I was just thinking,” you put the sleeping pup down to its duvet. “I want one. I want what you have so bad it hurts.”

“Why don’t you talk to Deku? I’m sure he’d love to have a baby with you,” she smiles to push your hurt away but, it only makes you grimace eternally.

“For us to talk, he’d have to be home for more than thirty minutes before he crashes out in bed,” that ends the conversation. You knew that dating a pro hero with ambitions like Izuku’s would be no walk in the park however, you didn't think it would be this hard.

You know he didn’t mean to but, Midoriya has inadvertently neglected you. First, it was forgetting date night due to the need to pursue a link to a villian. Then, it was forgetting your birthday to finish some paperwork. It seemed like something always popped up that Midoriya had to follow but, you couldn’t hold a grudge; he’s always been the type to help.

‘You knew what you were getting into when you chose to date him,’ you blamed yourself. You can't just expect him to change (and you grew bitter for that as well).

“Izuku,” you started across from him on the floor. He looked up at you with those dark green hues, giving you his full attention. “Izuku, why haven’t you marked me yet?”

“Y-Y/N, ahh you caught me off guard. I mean, do you want me to mark you?” he always does this; reverse the question when he doesn’t know the right answer.

“Izuku, I asked you a question,” you put your chopsticks down.

“Well, I don’t think I should bind myself to you,” cue the dramatic scent drop. “N-No it’s not you, it’s me. Okay, that sounds cliché but I just, I don't want to keep you from finding someone better.”

‘THERE ISN’T ANYONE BETTER THAN YOU,’ the words were stuck in your mouth. The conversation should have ended there but you were hurt.

“Y/N, please, say something. Are you mad?”

‘Yes.’ “No.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t take-”

“I’m fantastic. Just not as hungry as I thought I was. But, I’m glad you told me. Now, how was your day?” It hurts but your grin through it. The conversation shouldn’t end there but, you have no desire to see what other bullshit can leave the alpha’s mouth.

You know he doesn’t mean it in this way but, doesn’t that mean that Midoriya doesn’t see you as a life partner? Wouldn’t it be safe to say that he’d leave you if he found someone better? Weren’t you just wasting your time?

“Are you sure you’re okay? We can talk about it if you want,” he pauses to yawn. “Maybe, tomorrow though. It was such a long day. All Might was-“ ahh yes, All Might. You’re sure you know more about him than you do about Midoriya’s mother.

You feel unwanted, used, and taken advantage of. You do everything for him: cook, clean, support, help him with leads that stump him, drag him to bed, bandage him up. Yet, your efforts have only gotten you in a position where you’re positive Midoriya only keeps you around for entertainment. It’s a bad feeling.

But, you can’t bring yourself to pack your belongings and leave. Your inner Omega is intertwined with his, even without the mating mark. She wants to be with him till the very end; till either one of you dies and the other soon follows into the afterlife.

But, the feelings just keep growing. They’re in the back of your mind as you kiss Izuku, they’re in the corner of your bedroom as you cuddle with him, they’re blaring in the car as you falsely laugh. So, you suppose it’s half your fault that things have gotten to the point that they currently are.

Today, you woke up in a particularly good mood. Midoriya had made your favorite breakfast and kissed you roughly before he left the house.

“I have a feeling something’s going to happen today; make sure to call me when you get to work and when you get home,” his lips pressed down on you almost urgently, making your insides quiver. “And, make sure you check your surroundings.”

“I will Izuku. I’ll see you later,” and he went out to save the world. You got dressed in some leggings and a blouse and headed off to your café. While it wasn’t the flashiest job for a person with a powerful quirk like yours, you loved watching the little pups pick out what they wanted. Occasionally, you could even pick them up.

“Hai, Y/N. I have some fresh scones waiting to be put out,” one of your workers greeted you. You h/c colored hair was pulled into a messy game, a few tendril framing your face. There was a low gust of air from the door behind you. Another mother with her pup.

You got to work helping wherever you could, throwing powder sugar at your workers whenever they were being too impatient; you have a knack for doing things slowly till you get them perfect.

“As to be expected of such an analytical quirk,” one of your best employees, Kagey, tells you.

“You’re just mad because I won’t allow you to rush my beautiful cakes,” you stick your tongue out at him.

“No, I’m mad because you’ve made me wait for ten minutes just so you could place those fucking cakes. And they’re placed crooked. I could’ve been over there serving that hottie. Look at himmmm,” Kagey shakes your shoulders while fawning over some unsuspecting soul.

“Ummm, you forget I have Izuku,” you raise one of your eyebrows.

“There’s no crime in looking. It’s not like you’ve got a mark,” you crack your neck. “Sorry, I forget that’s a sore subject for you. “

“It’s fine. And, who’s the poor victim you’re staring at this time,” he points to a man you’re well acquainted with: Monoma Neito.

His blonde hair is still light but he’s grown it to be a little above his shoulders. Those beady eyes that used to be rimming with anger and discontent are finally happy and playful. He’s filled out, body-wise, and you can tell he’s bulging with muscle.

‘Izuku’s better.’

“Damn, that glow hit him like a truck,” Kagey pushes your shoulders forward. “Okay, bitch, stop being pushy.”

“Ofcourse, you know a beefcake like that. Introduce me to him! I’d love to get my tongue on him,” you shudder with disgust at that mental image. “Don’t look like that. My men always leave me satisfied.”

“I didn’t know that was how people describe STI’s nowadays. I really am a Boomer now,” he smack you upside the head. “Okay, okay, I’m going. Just stop hitting me.”

You wander over to Monoma, trying to decide what’s the best way to approach him. You decide on being direct.

“Monoma,” he turns and his face lights up with recognition. “Hai, it’s been so long. Welcome to my shop”

“Y/N!? You own this place? I would’ve thought you’d want to be a hero. It’s good to see you,” he grabs your hand in his. His hands are warm, no doubt he’s probably feeling the strength of your quirk. He’s always been the handsy type. “You’re single? What happened to Izuku?”

“We’re still together. We’re just taking things slow,” you shrugged off his gaze. “Plenty of people do it.”

“So, no mark and no ring. You’re basically single,” you ruffle up and his tone. You had forgotten he can be as blunt as yourself, one of the main reasons you had been good friends.

“You could say that if that’s what you believe. But, this isn’t about me. My friend over there, Kagey,” you point your thumb over at the fool. “He wanted to know if you’d like to go on a date.”

“You and I both know I’m straight. But, I appreciate the offer,” Monoma raises his voice so Kagey can hear. You can hear muffled cursing about straight men behind you following his statement. “But, I’d love to take you out sometime this week.”

“I have Izuku.”

“Do you really? You know alphas are preconditioned to mark what they feel belongs to them. What does that say about you?” He knows exactly how to manipulate your mind.

“...when are you free?”

***

You were shaking as you applied your makeup. Today was the day that you were going to go on a small date with Monoma. Nothing too serious; just an outing with a friend that just so happens to be an alpha.

Why were you shaking? Well, you hadn’t told Izuku about your plans. He normally gets home later in the night and you had planned on getting back from your date earlier than him. But, what if he found out? Well, it shouldn't matter, right?

He did tell you that you could find someone else (although, now as the moment was nearing, you started to doubt how serious he was when he told you). So, it shouldn’t be a big deal. It’s not like you were planning on running away with this alpha. But, would Izuku understand that?

‘He’s not even going to find out. No point in worrying about it,’ you hissed as you accidentally poked your eye with your makeup brush.

The soft material of the skirt stretched across your thighs as you paced through the halls. Were you really going to do this?

“Y/N, I’m home baby. I picked up some pizza for us,” you froze. Out of all the times for Izuku to come home early, he chose the day when you were going to converse with another alpha. You thought about trying to run back to the bedroom but he was already halfway to the kitchen and he would most likely hear you.

“Ohhhh that’s great. Really great,” you inched towards the couch to try to cover yourself in the pillows.

“Yeah, why are you covered in the pillows? Are you building a new nest here? Want me to go get my shirts?” You immediately felt guilty all over again. Here you were about to betray him and he’s being selfless.

“NOOO, no, just, stay right there,” you sink in further as you hoped he’d leave you alone. Unfortunately for you, Izuku doesn’t leave anything alone if he thinks something is wrong.

“What’s wrong, omega?” He gets closer and sniffs the air. “Are you wearing perfume?”

“Yeahhhh, wanted to try something new,” you avoid eye contact.

“Why aren’t you looking at me?”

“...”

“Omega, look at me please.”

“Izuku, I’m just not feeling well.”

“Look at me.”

You look at him with small tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Awww, omega. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He starts to emit a soothing smell for you.

“Izuku, I have a-“ the doorbell interrupts you. You know it’s Monoma. You know you can’t get up to get the door. You know that you are fucked.

“I’ll get it. But, when they leave, we are talking about what’s wrong,” you gulp. You hear Midoriya open the door.

“Midoriya, it’s nice to see you. Is Y/N ready?” There’s the nail in the coffin.

“What do you mean?

“We have a date tonight.”

“No you fucking don’t.”

“Um, we do. I asked her out the other day at her café,” you hear silence till you hear the unmistakable sound of Izuku’s growl. The air becomes stiffling as his pheromones threaten to choke you to death. You cower in the pillows, listening to Izuku grab Monoma and pull him into the room. No matter how much he told you he’d be fine with you finding another alpha, you should’ve known your actions would drive him feral.

“Why the fuck is he here?” Izuku snarled in your face. You were silently sobbing, ashamed of what your actions had caused. “FUCKING ANSWER ME, OMEGA.”

“Y-you’re the one that said you weren’t mating me in case I found someone better,” you pushed the pillow into his face as you stood to defend yourself. “Why are you so fucking mad? You drove me to this.”

“Don’t try to fucking blame me. You should have told me. So, you really want him?” You nodded your head to spite him. “No, you don’t. You just want to piss me off. Well, if that’s the objection, you accomplished your goal. Now, strip.”

“What?” The false confidence was wearing off.

“You wanted to make me mad and you did. You want a mating mark? I’ll give you one. Now, strip for your punishment,” you shakily point to Monoma that was wide-eyed in Izuku’s grip. “Yes, in front of him. He needs to see you belong to me since he’s clearly a visual learner.”

You slowly reach behind and unzip your skirt. You push the fabric down your legs to bunch at you ankles, step out of them, and shakily pull at the hem of your shirt. You lock eyes with Monoma as you pull it above your head. The air feels cold against your soft skin. You stand there in your bra and panties, awaiting Izuku’s next command.

“I said strip. Keep going,” you gulp.

“I should leave,” Izuku slams Monoma into a chair. He grips his shoulder so hard you can hear a small crack.

“Nahhhh, stay. I’m sure you knew she belonged to me but, this is a good reminder,” Izuku turns back to watch your breasts spill from your bra. Your nipples pebble from the attention you’re getting. You slip your panties down your legs, reaching for a pillow to cover yourself.

“No, show him what belongs to me. Turn around and bend over,” you slowly turn, placing your hands on the sofa behind you. You clench your legs together. You bend at the waist, hearing two sharp intakes of breath.

You stand there like an exhibit, slick pooling in between your legs. You’re sure they can see your nether lips glistening with arousal as well as the wall, your breasts hanging from the position.

“Look at how wet she is for me, Monoma. I bet you wish she was like that for you,” Izuku’s breath fans across your ass. His hands gently cups your waist, tugging you backwards so he can muzzle your ass crack. “Such a beautiful body. All mine.”

“IZUKU,” you scream out as he suddenly slaps your ass. It makes more slick fall between your legs but, it still stings as a punishment. “I’ll be good omega.”

“I know baby. You’re always such a good girl. You just need to be corrected. I’ve been giving you a little too much free reign. Wanted to be sensitive alpha. Wanted to give you time. No more of that,” you shivered at the promise. “Gonna give you exactly what you need.”

A tirade of smacks rain down on your behind, lighting up your backside. You yelp and try to pull away but are restrained by Izuku’s strong arms. He’s the one supporting your weight as you crash down against the couch, the front half of your body slumped down.

“Awww, is Omega tired? But, we’re just getting started,” from behind you, you can hear Monoma’a breathing get heavier. “Let’s give fuckface a good show baby.”

You’re about to question what he means when Izuku stands up, walks over, and rips the tie from Monoma’s neck. He walks back over to you, tying your arms together.

“I’m in control,” he says. You quiver when you hear Izuku’s knees hit the floor behind you. Only moments later his face is buried in your heat, lapping like a dog. It sounds so lewd to hear him slurp at your juices.

He starts off slowly kissing the backs of your thighs, gripping you by your ass cheeks as he pulls your globes apart. You feel exposed when he takes an exaggerated sniff. “I’ve missed this. Need to start being more attentive to my baby.”

He licks up and down your slit, lightly nibbling on your clit as he circles it, pulling it between his lips to give it a harsh suck. Your hole clenches around nothing as you moan and try to cant your hips into his face. Your efforts are rewarded with a warning smack.

“Just enjoy my tongue,” he positions you to be on your knees as he continues to eat you out. He first slips in one finger to the knuckle, reveling in the debauched groan that leaves your beautiful lips. Your lips are parted as drool rubs down the left side of your face. Your eyes go crossed eyed from Izuku slipping in another finger and curling them upwards, those two fingers touching that spongy texture inside of you. The perfect Ahegao face. A vision of wrecked.

“That’s it, cum all over my fingers,” he continues to finger fuck you through your orgasm, latching back onto your clit. You shiver from the overstimulation, wanting to run with nowhere to go. You’ve forgotten Monoma as you whimper.

“Zuku’ too much. Please,” you’re shaking as you bite into the sofa to mute your screams.

“Aht aht aht, I wanna hear you fucking moan for me. Let him know who’s making you feel this good,” he allows his lone hand to stroke your stomach, knowing that was one of your sweet spots. You whine loudly as you cum once again, mascara running.

“Nooo more. Izuku. Please. Alpha,” you’re stuck there. Forced to take all the pleasure he gives you.

“I think you can give me more baby,” he removes himself from you as he unbuttoned his jeans. “Monoma, you wanna know something funny.”

“What?”

“I bet you thought you’d be the one to fuck her pretty pussy tonight,” Izuku laughs with no amusement behind the sound. “Never thought you’d be forced to watch.”

Izuku pushes his hard cock between your legs, smearing your juices across his shaft. He grabs his cock as he toys with your entrance, pushing the tip of his cock between your lips and groaning at the sight. Your pussy grips the tips in a vice, trying to suck him in further.

“Alpha, stop teasing me. Please. More. Give it to me.”

“I thought you couldn’t take anymore,” he teases.

“Pleaseeeee ohiuuhhh yess,” you throw your head back when you feel him push all the way in in one motion. Your toes curl as his cock strains against your walls, forcing you to take it all. He expertly pulls back and gives an experimental thrust.

“Look at that pussy, Monoma. Isn’t it nice? Too bad you’ll never get to feel my pussy,” he sets a bruising pace, never giving you a chance to recover. You hear your own whines mixed in with his pelvis slapping against your ass, your body rocking forward from the force of his body.

He wraps his hand around your neck, lifting your body so he can make you meet his thrusts. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum around his cock but, you’re okay with being used like a cocksleeve.

“I’m gonna fuck my babies into your tight pussy. Gonna breed you,” you mewl. “Is that what you wanted? Pups?”

You nod as you cry, partly from the overstimulation but also from the emotional state you’ve been reduced to.

“I’ll give you as many pups as you want. Looks like I’ll have to fuck you out of your mind more to get you to talk to me,” he growls beside your side and he leans over you, crushing you beneath him as he pushes your body to scrunch beneath him, pounding you like he hated you.

“Are you gonna cum again,” you nod due to your raw throat. You’re clenching and the pleasure starts to build but, this time, it feels different. Your vision goes out as you spasm, stars coming across your eyes as you squirt all over his cock, making a mess on the cock bellow you. Your tightness pushes Izuku into his orgasm.

“Cum for me, Omega. Cum for your alpha,” you whine as you spasm but nothing comes out. He’s pushed you into a dry orgasm. You feel his hot spurts of cum enter your pussy, coating everywhere inside of you. His teeth sink into your neck, making you his forever.

“Izuku,” you whine.

“Feels good, omega?” You nod. He slowly pulls out from behind you, tapping your ass like a horse.

“Get the fuck out,” Monoma doesn’t have to be told twice as he runs out. Izuku grabs a few baby wipes from the kitchen and comes back to wipe your pussy.

“You’re mine. Never forget that.”

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I hope you all enjoyed this. I was asked to write this a longgggg time ago and I’m so sorry for it taking so much time to complete. I rewrote this a total of three times and I’m finally happy with the end result.

Tag List: @sakurashortstack @sinclairsamess

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seven-oomen · 3 years

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Breaking the cycle | How Teen Wolf portrays its traumatized fathers

First of, I would like to say that the following words are my take on this. I am a 29 year old trans man of Caucasian descend who is an domestic violence and abuse survivor. I am diagnosed with ADHD since 12 and diagnosed with CPTSD since this year. I understand trauma and I understand what it does to people. But I am not a professional. I am a fan.

Secondly, the characters I’ll be talking about today are specifically the fathers of some of the main characters in Teen Wolf. Namely Chris Argent, Peter Hale, and Noah Stilinski.

I realize there are many more traumatized parents who would fit well in this essay and while I thought about including them, I decided that for now, these are the three characters I’m focusing on.

I would love to hear your thoughts about some of the other parents and how their traumatizing pasts might have contributed to the way they raised their children.

Sources are listed under the read more. The gifs I’m using are from Google.

I will be focusing on these characters, discuss what sort of trauma they have, how it affects them and how it affects the way they then raised their children. And why their stories are important for trauma and abuse survivors.

Let’s start with Noah Stilinski.

From Episode 3, Season 6 Sundowning we know the following about Noah’s homelife:

Elias was known for being both emotionally and physically abusive, and on at least one occasion, Noah stepped in to protect his mother from his abuse, causing his father to inadvertently throw him into a glass coffee table; his shoulder was scarred, and tiny fragments of glass remain under the now-healed wound even in the present day.

He even tells Scott: (While talking about a memory of him and Claudia in College.) “The kind of father I wish I had. The kind I... I hope to be."

In the same episode Noah also refers to the incident above as “That time.” Indicating that it wasn’t the first time this happened and it wasn’t the last either.

Piecing all the information together we can conclude that Noah was emotionally, psychologically, and physically abused by his father. We can also conclude that this abuse extended to his mother. Meaning he was also a victim of domestic violence.

There is also evidence in the episode that Elias might have abused Stiles, or at the very least has a very negative opinion of his grandson. “ That's right! Act like I'm not even here! Go crawling back to your dead wife and loser son!”

This scarred Noah, both physically and mentally. We see evidence of this in episodes where he reacts violently and explosively any time his son is hurt. He immediately blows up and threatens physical violence against the people who hurt his son.

A part of that is parental protection, but imagine that someone beat the living crap out of you and those you love every day of your life. Once you’re free of that person it leaves a mark and a smoldering fear of seeing the people around you getting hurt. When it happens you get angry, at the people who hurt your loved one, and at yourself. You weren’t there to protect them, you were too late.

Noah blames himself whenever Stiles gets hurt. I believe, based on his childhood home life that Noah corresponds his son getting hurt with failure as a parent. And knowing where he comes from, that’s an extra sore subject for him.

We have basis of it in canon.

We can also see that Noah’s guilt tends to eat at him if he ever has to discipline Stiles or yell at him. As shown in the following scene.

I believe that the abuse Noah endured makes him a very scared individual especially when it comes to raising his son. He’s constantly afraid he’s turning into his father, his afraid of making the same mistakes. He’s afraid he’ll scar and traumatize his own as he was traumatized himself.

The fact that Noah is aware of what he’s doing, that he stops when asked is enough of an indication to tell us, the audience, that he isn’t his father. Once Stiles indicates he’s okay, or simply tells his father to stop, Noah stops immediately. He usually hugs his son or initiates a kind physical contact right after.

He stops, he reflects, realizes his mistake, and tries to do better.

This is one way to break the cycle. Noah’s not perfect at it, we can see him struggle many times. He insults Stiles or his intelligence without meaning to, passing it off as a joke, he’s constantly working and is not around as much as he should be. And those are valid criticisms of this character.

But deep at his core Noah’s trying to break a cycle of physical and emotional abuse, he’s trying to be there for Stiles. Tells him to go to school, tries to keep an eye on Stiles and tries to talk to him whenever he has the chance to explore Stiles’s wellbeing and feelings.

This is a man who went through hell as a child, became a father, and decided to do better.

Noah is a character who effectively broke a viscous cycle and has a wonderful and strong relationship with his son as a result. It’s not without flaws and Noah’s not perfect. But he’s generally not abusive or an abuser. And that is a step in the right direction.

It also shows us, the audience, that no matter what home life you come from, you can arise above your own traumas and do better for the next generation.

Now Chris Argent is an interesting one. I already talked about Chris and trauma in my daddy’s little soldier meta.

Considering the type of person Gerard is, and how he treats several teenagers in the show. I believe Chris is also a victim of emotional, psychological, and physical abuse. We don’t know much about his home life with his mother, so that I can not speculate on.

What we do know is, Gerard has no qualms about hurting children and teenagers. He’s admitted that he would kill his own son if it meant he survived. He’s raised his own son to be a weapon and to compartmentalize his emotions. I shudder to think as to what methods Gerard must have used on Chris. But as we never see them, I can only speculate.

So how did Chris break his cycle of abuse?

By not raising Allison to be a hunter. For the first seventeen years of her life, Allison didn’t know the Supernatural existed. She was kept out of her father’s life until it was no longer possible. She was never raised as a soldier, she wasn’t raised to hide her feelings. If anything, her father encouraged her and nurtured her to the best of his abilities. Chris tried to be there for his daughter.

He even moved her to France to get her away from their lives. He quit something he was raised to do and did it successfully, just to protect his daughter. He grew up to be everything his father wasn’t.

And while Chris, too, is not perfect at it, he does try and breaks the cycle.

He’s aware of their problems, addresses them, and tries to do better. He even extends this nurturing and protective side to Isaac later down the line.

Chris, a victim of abuse, sees the signs of abuse in Isaac, and decides; this one, this one I will nurture and protect too. Which he eventually accomplishes by bringing him to France and away from the craziness that is Beacon Hills. (Would have been nice to get a good plot about Chris adopting Isaac, but well, that’s another rant.)

Chris, like Noah, shows that even if you were raised in the worst circumstances, by being aware of your trauma and how that affects others, you can break the cycle and come out on top.

And last but not least we have someone who went through an horrific event and possibly emotional abuse from his family, discovered he was a father, and then had to adjust.

I’m talking about Peter Hale.

Now Peter is not a morally good character in general. He has no qualms about killing people who get in his way. From what we know about his childhood Peter also had anger issues as a small child and often broke his toys.

However, the reason why I’m stating that Peter was most likely emotionally abused (I think by his sister Talia) is because we know that Talia, would not believe Peter about the fire and the Argents and waved his concerns away without considering them. She manipulated multiple of his memories and frequently hid the truth from him. And we know that their relationship from before the fire was strained.

We also know that Peter does care about his family. He cared for Cora in the hospital and he does care about whether Derek lives or dies and tends to keep an eye out for his nephew. In later seasons we also see Peter caring about his only daughter Malia and even express fear for her wellbeing when they go up against the Anuk-Ite.

His love for Malia is eventually what frees him from the Ghost Riders control and his wish for her to live is what motivates his decisions in Season 6 to try and keep her safe, and when he can’t keep her away from the fight, he joins her and tries to protect her.

Now I believe that the Peter we see in S1,2, 3 and S6B are the real Peter Hale. A traumatized man who believes his only way to stay alive is through manipulation and careful planning. But he does genuinely seem to care about a few people, Cora, Derek, and Malia.

In Season 1 Peter is still coming out of his traumatic event (being burned alive and then being in a coma) and he has to navigate a new world. He kills Laura (or so it is speculated) for her Alpha power and to heal himself. Because to Peter, he is the only one who can avenge his family and resolve the traumatic event he went through.

Revenge, of course, is generally not a good way to resolve trauma and the plan doesn’t work. His trauma is not resolved by killing Kate and he dies that night.

When Peter comes back practically powerless he has to navigate carefully and he does so through manipulating the people around him. To Peter, manipulation is the only way to stay alive and get ahead. This idea of his, had to come from somewhere.

This is where my theory of emotional abuse kicks in. Because if Peter was emotionally abused by his sister (for which there is evidence in canon), he most likely picked up his tactic of manipulation as a survival tactic.

Now out of the list. Peter is the only person who doesn’t fully rise above his past. The past still haunts him as he becomes a protector of Beacon Hills in S6B. But I firmly think that if we got to see more of Peter past this point, we would have seen a man starting his journey to recognizing his toxic traits and trying to do better by them. But that of course, is just speculation.

Peter’s story teaches us that the road to healing and becoming a better person isn’t always linear. It’s not a given that you’ll heal if you aren’t ready to accept it. Or if you’re so focused on getting revenge that healing is impossible, it’s also not going to work. And usually, trying to heal requires a positive presence in your life (Malia), a support system (Malia and the pack), and a willingness to recognize what you’re doing wrong and to better yourself moving forward.

Sources:

Breaking the Cycle of Child Abuse - Article written by a psychologist and peer reviewed by a psychiatrist

The cycles of violence - Article written for the WHO by the University of Birmingham

The Teen Wolf Wiki - for all information and episodes of these characters

Teen Wolf - MTV tv show that owns the characters.

#chris argent #noah stilinski #peter hale #teen wolf meta #teen wolf #meta #long post #trauma #healing #breaking the cycle

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silvysartfulness · 3 years

Note

Omg I saw that you used to write for the assassin’s creed fandom and honestly what a throwback 😭 are they on livejournal?

Aahhh, this is the part where I have to admit, I don't think I ever put any of those drabbles online! It was more a fun thing me and wife used to do, writing very very short 5 minute one-shots based on single word-prompts.

Oh, wait! Apparently I actually still have them, in an old folder of mine! Will post under a cut. These are AC 1-3-brotherhood, primarily focused on the latter.

La Volpe/Cesare post the fall of the Borgia was my main rarepair ship in that fandom, so that's the main (if occasionally only implied) focus for a lot of these. (CW some dubcon/non-con under the cut, so be warned.) 😊

1 Unwillingness

It goes against everything he is, a greater challenge than any battlefield taken on. Snarling, eyes blazing his defiance, Cesare submits for now.

2 Memento

”Something to remember me by,” murmurs Volpe softly against the sensitive skin of his neck, and it's all Cesare can do not to yelp as those vicious teeth leave a bleeding gash in his ear.

3 Baseline

He still doesn't trust Machiavelli, Volpe muses, and it's equally clear Machiavelli doesn't trust him. Perhaps their shared love of secrecy is the one dependent thing about their relationship.

4 Sniper

He has shot guards from rooftops, towers, horseback, beams and the treacherous crumbling tops of ancient stone pillars. So why was it, muses Ezio afterward, that he hadn't even thought of pulling crossbow or gun out as his sworn enemies held their short council in the courtyard a few measly yards below his feet?

5 Birthplace

It is in Masyaf the order of Assassins was born into what it is now. Searching for answers Ezio sets out on the longest journey of his life, back to the beginning of all.

6 Denunciation

It is hard to remember what it was like to have faith, Cesare thinks, but easy to remember when it was lost. What God could ever work through the instrument that was Alexander VI, his father?

7 Distaste

”Volpe, you didn't!” Ezio exclaims, his face a mask of distaste. Volpe smirks.

”Oh, it was not at all bad. Cesare is well trained.”

Ezio shudders. ”That is exactly what bothers me!”

8 Elimination

Constantly, frustratingly one step behind, it is little Cesare can do as his allies are meticulously taken out by the Assassins one by one. And yet it is not until the last of those on his side willingly turn their backs on him that he realizes this battle is lost.

9 Bluntness

”You can do as I say,” says the master thief matter-of-factly, turning the vial of antidote over in his spindly fingers, ”or you can spend the night dying slowly while vomiting your innards all over the floor. The choice is yours.”

Pale with fury Cesare chooses to live.

10 Turf

The Assassins had been myth, legend, bed-time stories to frighten a young boy already afraid of the dark. But as they dealt an all but deadly blow to his father inside the Vatican itself, Cesare grimly declares war. Roma is his city, and all who oppose his rule must be swiftly and mercilessly dealt with.

11 Assassination

He burns for the ideals, fights the fight with passion and utter devotion. But when Shaun's shaking hands lower the suddenly impossibly heavy gun he knows something he'dnever even thought about (Innocence? Compassion? Humanity?) has perished as surely as that very first body at his feet.

12 Apprentice

He remembers a gangly youth skidding across slippery roof tiles, trying so hard to keep up and even harder to hide his inability to do so. La Volpe silently studies Il Mentore and considers he's no longer sure who would lead the way across the rooftops.

13 Debris

Ezio swears as the ceiling collapses over the bed he shared with Caterina until moments ago – his armor and weapons are buried in the rubble and will be hard to replace. He does not yet know they will be the least of his losses this day.

14 Scolding

Altaïr has never been one to accept blame or criticism for his actions, but something about the way Malik's not-there left arm twitches as to shake a not-there fist in his face as the man speaks makes him look away in hidden shame.

15 Torrent

The rain pours down over the city, making roofs and cobblestones alike wet and slippery. Volpe tugs his collar tighter around his shoulders against the biting cold and idly contemplates if a trip to the Castello would be worth the trouble.

16 Anchor

He cheats and steals and tells honeyed lies with the ease of a snake. But his eyes can be oceans and his touch velvet – sometimes Ezio wonders if his always restless, inspiration-ridden friend keeps Salai around just to remember what it's like to be human.

17 Truce

”It would be nice,” says Machiavelli evenly, ”if you would not so readily name yourself judge, jury and executioner the next time you fall victim to unfounded suspicion.”

”Fine,” mutters Volpe, frowning. ”It would be niceif you were not so secretive. And stop trying to steal my spies. Get your own.”

”Fine,” Machiavelli replies with a minute smirk.

Fellowship is knowing just when your brother-in-arms is lying.

18 Nook

There are many unknown and unseen hiding places among the rooftops of Florence. On his back, hair plastered against his face and hot breath against his ear, Giovanni concludes it's very handy that La Volpe always knows to find one when you need it.

19 Orgy

These parties are more to his father's tastes than his his, Cesare firmly tells himself, perhaps letting his eyes linger thoughtfully on the multitude of courtesans a moment longer than intended. Then a familiar slender hand grazes his thigh and he is reminded that the only person even close to matching his own schemes, cunning and skill is the woman on the throne next to his.

20 Scoff

”I spend all my time in the Animus,” Desmond frowns, ��Lucy's keeping an eye on Abstergo and Rebecca... hacks and stuff. What do youdo, really? Anyone could use, what, Google and Wikipedia?”

Shaun grins or at least bares his teeth.

”You mean Templar Central One and Two? No, it's called obtaining knowledge, Desmond - sifted like little gold nuggets of fact from the vast sands of ignorance you're so fond of burying your head in. Google can't help you there, I'm afraid.”

21 Scolding

At the time, Ezio always figured Giovanni's constant nagging and pleading with him to stay out of trouble was only the worrying of an overprotective father. Only later was he taught discretion was part of the ancient Assassin's creed. He never got very good at it, even so.

22 Bonfire

No-one is entirely sure why Julius II has tempered justice with mercy for now and opted for his enemy's imprisonment rather than death sentence. As far as la Volpe is concerned, the way Cesare goes pale whenever the topic is brought up is at least good for entertainment.

23 Nakedness

Being exposed holds no particular shame for him, but the walls and floor are freezing to the touch, draining precious warmth from his aching body. Now would be a prudent time for an accursed thief to show up with a blanket to bargain for.

24 Arbiter

It was funny, Machiavelli drily noted in his notebook, how God and Divine Justice so often were on the side of the biggest army with the sharpest swords.

25 Purgatory

The land burns, smoke choking the sky and tinting the sun a sickly shade of blood. It is with a cold and unfamiliar sense of foreboding Cesare hurries through the flames toward the towering walls of the fortress to escape this hell on earth – one way or another.

26 Fingernail

Ezio has more than his fair share of scars adorning his hardened body, some remembered more fondly than others. He would never dream to ask Caterina to trim her nails, or use them just a touch more carefully.

27 Slavery

The Creed dictates freedom of thought, and in his reckless youth Altaïr would use it as justification for any rash impulse. But the older he grows, the more he comes to realize freedom and all its crushing responsibility can be the harshest master of all.

28 Carnivore

When confronted on his nasty habit of biting, Volpe only grins and quips something about foxes and their nature. Cesare is tempted to snap he's often seen dirty foxes prowling the back streets for garbage, but can see where Volpe would go with that, and so holds his tongue.

29 Bluntness

Ezio is too flustered after his mother's blunt request he find other outlets than vaginas to realize the enthusiastic young artist at his side seems more than eager to offer a few suggestions on the particular subject.

30 Vow

He will live, Cesare vows. He will live, he will regain his freedom, his power and his army. At any cost. And then they will. All. Pay.

31 Blending

It was simply not fair, thought Machiavelli, that no matter how solid your acting, no matter how meticulousyour disguise, Volpe would immediately spot you in a crowd and grin at you. Clearly spying on the sly old fox called for more cunning means, he conceded as he made his way to the Rosa to shamelessly bribe Claudia for information.

32 Misconduct

“Not that we are in any particular hurry to the Castello,” Orsini says, the knuckles of his war-gauntlet quite pleasantly buried in Cesare's face, “but things would just be easier all around if you would stop squirming and came quietly.”

33 Ultimatum

“If you don't stop hogging my mp3-player,” Rebecca whispers softly in Shaun's ear, “I'll tell Lucy exactly whatyou and Desmond used her yoghurts for last night.”

34 Takeover

“Stop!” Lucrezia commands as the soldiers feed the paintings to the fire – already the image of a swan is crackling and fading to black amongst the flames. Such a waste of beauty. She hasn't even realized Cesare is standing behind her, fierce and bloodied after the battle, until he speaks.

“You like them?”

She nods, and he touches her cheek with a smile, careful not to stain her hair.

“Then they are yours. A memento of the day the Assassini fell.”

35 Afterlife

“I blame you for this,” says Cesare flatly as the imps re-heat the lake of boiling tar. Again. “There is no God, you said. No heaven and no hell, you said. Stupid old bastard.”

Rodrigo mutters something about Hell being other people, but will have to concede that in this trifling matter, yes, he was mistaken.

36 Distaste

He would rather be hated than forgotten, Cesare sullenly thinks, rubbing his stiff hands for warmth. Bony, filthy, with the matted long hair of a hermit falling into his face, he has to settle for the guards' contempt. At least it's better than pity.

37 Slavery

He isn't really paid, Leonardo thinks, merely kept alive, yes. Not really compensated as such. And so the construction of the intricate war-machines is really on the consciences of his masters, not his. Sting of guilt quenched he returns to the blueprints with renewed fevered enthusiasm.

38 Probation

“What's the catch”, asks Cesare with deepest suspicion.

“No catch,” Volpe assures, looking innocent. “Just a reward for your recent good behaviour. Keep it up and there may a meal and a hot bath in it for you, too.”

Cesare does not for a moment believe they are just going out 'to stretch their legs', but a meal does sound inviting. He follows.

39 Adversity

Ezio strongly disapproved of the idea of his little sister taking over the Rosa in Fiore, and he frankly can't say whether he is more disappointed or proud when it flourishes under her care.

40 Bluntness

“You are a thief,” Machiavelli growls, piqued into a rare display of anger. “A liar and a cheat and an honourless thief!”

Volpe grins.

“All those things. And I'm still better than you.”

41 Scheming

Ezio gave the Apple to Mario, who had it stolen by Cesare, who gave it to Leonardo, who found it plucked out of his helpless hands by the Pope and his daughter. He ponders life was easier when he was just a painter. The Apple is a thing of awe, but the intrigues in its wake make his head hurt.

42 Favorite

It wasn't that Cesare particularly hated his older brother. It was just that while he no longer childishly sought his father's approval, the position as the Pope's favorite son came with several practical perks. Unfortunately for Juan, that meant he simply had to go.

43 Truce

When things are civilized, they can be bearable, almost even pleasant. The food is good, the wine plentiful, and Volpe's skilled fingers all but gentle. An unspoken truce, no matter how temporary. But neither man ever forgets the truth, which is war.

44 Scour

They answer to no-one, self-proclaimed executioners beyond all law. Too much blood on their hands now. Just before sunrise Cesare gives the command to attack. The cleansing of Monteriggioni has begun.

45 Extrovert

To hold his own council and play his cards close to his heart has always been his way, and he knowshe is a master at his game. And yet, Machiavelli can grudgingly admit to himself, it isn't until the boisterous chaos in human guise that is Ezio bursts in on the Roman scene that he begins to see how they will win this war.

46 Protagonist

“I will avenge the cowardly, treacherous plot against my father,” he thinks. “I will root out all those involved, every single one, and I will kill them and all they stand for.”

No-one ever sets out to be a hero, only to do what is right.

For Cesare, the path ahead is clear.

47 Willpower

It is never easy. Every time Altaïr visits his (his!) bureau in Jerusalem, Malik has to struggle with himself not to slay the man in his sleep. On many a moonlit night, only a lifetime of discipline stays the blade in his white-knuckled hand.

But strangely, it does get easier over time.

48 Esacalation

At first it had been mere proof of his ability to go anywhere in Roma as well he pleased, the taunting and impotent rage in response a given bonus. After some time, forced still-furious intimacy gained through blackmail had appeared a logical step. Then force turned out redundant. As Cesare clings to him, nails biting into his arms and teeth bared with need, Volpe admits to himself he would never have suspected the caged Borgia would so willingly use him to sate his desires – nor the other way around.

49 Torrent

Raw grief fades over time, a broken heart healed into a dull ache. The thing that keeps Claudia from sleeping at night is not all she has lost, but her screaming frustration at not being able to take her fate, and that of those responsible, into her own hands.

50 Danger

The peaceful life he had envisioned just the evening before will have to wait, Ezio grimly decides, pressing a hand to his wounded shoulder and focusing on not falling off his horse. And despite the shock, grief and pain, it somehow feels right. He has lived this life so long, he isn't sure he remembers how not to.

51 Splattering

Leonardo likes to buy birds at the market and set them free, watching with dreaming eyes as they take to the endless sky. Once, Ezio surprises his friend with twenty white doves. Much belatedly he wishes he'd remembered that stressed pigeons prefer to lighten their load before taking off.

52 Ramification

“It is time you take responsibility for your actions,” Rodrigo snarls, and Cesare struggles with the impulse to scream, childishly, “But father, younever did!”

53 Concession

“I'm not sure we should...”

Lover and Thief, silhouettes in the dark, alone. A light touch.

“Come now. It will be good, I promise.”

“But, what if...”

“Ssh. Are we not both Assassins? Everything is permitted.”

His honed thief's nerves tingling with foreboding warnings, La Volpe allows Claudia to persuade him in the end, knowing Ezio will probably kill him, and that it will no doubt be worth it.

54 Leer

You can't even seehis face in the shadows beneath the cowl. And yet, Volpe just standing there outside the bars, nonchalantly leaning one hand against the wall, makes Cesare want to scream. Or punch him hard. Preferably both.

55 Whisper

Ezio reflects that there are few other voices he would instantly recognize by just a short, urgent uttering of his name. His hesitation to turn around stems not from uncertainty, but the childish wish to postpone the trial of his oldest friend's rumored treason just a few moments longer.

56 Absurdity

At first Ezio had felt confused, then worried and finally terrified. But as they've fled Florence and the man introducing himself as uncle Mario tells him that his family belongs to an ancient clan of legendary assassins, relief washes over him. Finally is clear it has all been an insane dream. He can't wait to wake up.

57 Experimentation

Leonardo da Vinci is a true genius, his brilliant mind always seeing the world through a lens of wonder. Nothing escapes his never-sated curiosity – but that a small poseable wooden mannequin could be used like that? Cesare is a man not easily impressed, but will have to admit the artist rarely fails to amaze.

58 Farewell

It is with uncharacteristic kindness Volpe kisses him, between shared gasps for air after their final tryst. A last goodbye before the approaching dawn will see Cesare on his way to exile in Spain.

”Growing sentimental, old fox?” the younger man scoffs at him. ”No need. I shall return soon enough, and repaint the walls of Roma with Assassin blood.”

Volpe just smiles. He has already helped Ezio prepare his own journey and knows with certainty that Cesare will never again return to Rome.

59 Turf

”Maybe Giovanni could get away with doing paperwork all day over in Florence,” Mario says, and his tone clearly states what he thinks about his brother's choice. ”But arround here we train Assassins, not accountants or delivery boys.”

Ezio's body has never ached as much in his life as it does after his first day of training with his uncle.

60 Smoothness

When she smiles her deep red lips are like tantalizing rose petals, framed by sun-ray golden hair. She is smooth, flawless, perfect. But every rose has its thorns, and Lucrezia's are laden with poison.

61 Kneeling

Every fiber of Ezio's body strains desperately to regain control as he jerks like a puppet on golden strings of light.

”You are lucky,” breathes Rodrigo in a low, husky growls, leaning hard on the staff after the battle, ”So verylucky, little Assassin, that I am in a hurry.”

As the dagger sinks into his guts, Ezio briefly thinks that indeed, it could have been so much worse.

62 Purgatory

The imps don't know whether to feel amused or put out that the screaming, flailing argument between father and son has by now escalated to the point they don't even seem to register the lake of boiling tar anymore. A bit of respect for good solid workmanship, is that too much to ask?

63 Lick

It has to be said in favour of Machiavelli's assassin reflexes that the unexpected lick at his ear out of the dark earns Volpe neither a jump or a shriek but a rapid fist to the nose.

Only half an hour later, safely home in his bedroom, does Niccolo allow himself to contemplate what might have otherwise transpired.

64 Bonfire

It is a sad thing, reflects Ezio in hindsight, older, wiser, that compared to all the priceless art and knowledge fed to fire during Savonarola's mad reign of Florence, the mere loss of a human life that ended it is remembered with little sense of loss or revulsion.

65 Last

After Mario's death, Ezio has felt the weight of being the last Auditore Assassin ever heavier on his shoulders. But as he watches Claudia fearlessly take her leap of faith, he wonders how he could ever have been blind enough to think himself alone.

66 Well

The guards in hot pursuit yell and stab at wells, haystacks and dark alleyways. From his perch on a rooftop Ezio smiles. He always did prefer to take to the sky.

67 Wrongdoer

As his support falters and the opposition grows ever bolder, Cesare becomes increasingly frustrated with their attacks and accusations. He would prefer to answer only for his own sins, not those of his dead father.

68 Deliberate

It really is getting unnerving, decides Machiavelli, the way Volpe has taken up the habit of commenting on his every observation with a frosty ”Indeed” or ”Yes, quitethe coincidence”. He wishes he could believe the man isn't doing it on purpose.

69 Counter

When he first arrives in Jerusalem, Altaïr can't quite shake the feeling that the only thing between him and certain death is a rather narrow, map-strewn desk.

70 Bribe

Cesare has always been good at striking a profitable bargain. Unfortunately Borgia as a currency is bitterly deflated, and these days he often have to sell himself too cheap for comfort. Even though it isa warm, snug blanket.

71 Chess

Cesare knows he is a brilliant strategist – not so much because of the expected praise from his subordinates as from the satisfactory number of pins currently adorning his map of Italy. He would like to believe himself modest in this, careful not allow hubris to cheat him of a victory. And yet he never knows whether to frown or laugh helplessly as the absent-minded artist all but appologetically check-mates his king time and time and time again.

72 Feel

Leonardo never knows how to feel when Cesare enters the room. At first he is apprehensive, but as weeks turn into months and he realizes he's not only allowed but encouraged to dream up grander designs than ever before he is thrilled.

In the end, seeing the Assassins' plans put into motion long before Cesare even knows the final battle has begun, he can only avert his eyes in regret.

73 Mister

”Outside the kingdom of God is the realm of men,” Salai says, leaning just an inch too close. ”You worship there, Messere?”

Only years of training his clueless look on Leonardo helps Ezio keep a straight face as he blankly waves for the boy to follow him.

74 Fine

There are simply too many guards around for a discreet kill, so Ezio grudlingly counts the florins and hands them over. How was heto know he wasn't allowed to park his horse there? Time to liberate another stable from its Borgia-tower shadow, he decides. Burning them all down is easier than keeping track of territories anyway.

75 Dog

If La Volpe is the fox and Ezio the bird of prey, Pantasilea ponders, then Bartolomeo reminds her of a large, lumbering dog. Faithful and loyal unto death, but with a booming bark and a vicious bite for those who threaten those dear to him.

76 Forgotten

When Volpe appears he is the first person Cesare has seen in days. He greets the thief with his usual brazen curses, careful not to let any trace of relief shine through. Of all things he is most afraid to be left alone to die; not slain out of hatred or need, but simply ignored and forgotten.

77 Changed

Had Ezio been the kind of man to think upon such things, he might have noticed the Cesare facing him atop the towering walls is not the self-assured young general he met a handful years previous in Roma. Tired-looking and hunched over he looks defeated even before the battle has begun. But Ezio is here for one single purpose alone, and has never been the kind of man to think of such things anyway.

78 Gondola

Antonio assures Leonardo that only from an extensive tour with his private gondola will the artist truly get to know his new home town. As it happens, a rocky two-hour boat ride later, Leonardo still hasn't really seen much of the city. But that's quite alright, as he happily agrees to repeat the endeavour soon again.

79 Casino

It never hurts to try to win Fortuna's favour when gambling is one of your favorite pastimes, Salai knows, but in this particular case divine intervention is quite a bit closer at hand. As long as you have La Volpe's favor, the dice at the Sleeping Fox will never let you down.

80 Soup

The first bowl of watery gruel ends up thrown in the guard's face with enough force to break his nose. The next morning the second splinters against the wall. Nearly a week passes before he forces himself to eat the fifth, to preserve his strength.

Cesare closes his eyes as he quickly raises the bowl to his face to wolf down the hundredth, before the reflection in the dull surface can show him what he has become.

81 Carrot

”Tell you what,” murmurs Volpe in the starving prisoner's ear, dangling the vegetable in front of his face, ”If you give me a good enough show I'll even let you keep it for supper when you're done.”

82 Madame

Volpe has to admit himself impressed – Claudia is shrewd, ruthless and horrifyingly practical, and stillmanages to be praised a good businesswoman rather than cursed a thief.

83 Kilt

Yes, Ezio decides as he flexes his body inside the unfamiliar weight of Romulus' armour, there is definitely a draft around his nether regions. Whatever the old Romans may have thought, a skirt of leather belts does notconstitute proper clothing.

After some swearing and creative arranging of his spare cloak he considers it may well look even moreof a skirt, but at least this cut preserves his manly dignity when he jumps.

84 Theft

He has stolen valuables, information, people and lives. La Volpe draws in a deep breath as he surveys Roma in the first light of morning, then exhales in satisfaction. She is the greatest city in the world, and she is all his for the taking.

#asksilvy #blast from the past

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zayray030 · 3 years

Text

Ramble

Summary: Spencer knew that his tendency to ramble has at times frustrated people but he thought that at least the BAU wouldnt mind. Guess he thought wrong. OR 4 times someone told him to shut up and 1 time someone told him to ramble

Spencer rambled a lot. It was conman knowledge. He especially seemed to ramble when he was either anxious, scared, injured or with someone he was close with.

When Spencer had been younger he had regretted rambling so much. Maybe if he hadn't rambled so much his father would still be with him. If he hadn't rambled so much maybe, just maybe he wouldn't have been bullied so much. Maybe he could have a happier life.

Anyway, he shouldn't think like that! He had a new, even better family. The BAU had accepted every part of his weirdness with limited questions and light teasing.

The BAU had especially adapted his rambling tenancies and listened to him when he rambled. Most times anyway.

I mean, Spencer couldn't exactly blame them. Not everybody could continue having the patience of a saint. Some people tended to snap when too much was handed to them. Spencer guesses he was the too much they couldn't handle.

He knew that the team didn't mean to be hurtful. It just hurt that the people he thought he could trust were just so…cold when they wanted him to be quiet. But they were.

And Spencer didn't know what hurt the most. The fact that he wasn't shocked that they had gotten tired of him or the fact that they did.

Instance one where people had too much of him (Maybe talking about the importance of healthy eating wasn't a good idea)

Spencer and Morgan had been at the lunchroom when Spencer had noticed that all Morgan had was a protein shake, two cookies and milk.

Those weren't nearly enough calories to be able to power Morgan up! Especially considering the older agent had the tendency to overtrain himself to get more muscled.

“You know that isn't enough right?” Spencer asked, gesturing to the measly meal in front of Morgan.

Spencer missed the look that Morgan sent him and continued rambling about the health and safety of having limited food and the dangers that can do to the body. Just as he was about to start rambling again Morgan cut him off, harshly.

“Listen, thanks kid but I don't exactly need health tips from a skinny twig. How about you shut up and just let me eat in silence, okay?” and without waiting for Spencer’s reply Morgan up and left, not bothering to look behind him.

If he had he would have seen the heartbroken expression on the younger agent. He would have seen the slight fear in his eyes at the thought of another person is his life leaving him.

Spencer looked down at his meal and shook his head out of any thoughts to do with Morgan just being a tad bit rude with how he wanted Spencer to be quiet.

He should have just kept quiet and not spoken. This was all on him. He shouldn't have bothered the older man. He'd be quiet around him to make him happier.

Instance two where people had too much of him (Maybe he shouldn't ask someone if they need help from now on.)

Spencer was making his way to Garcia’s office. Maybe spending some time with the older woman would help but his mind at ease with what happened with Derek. She might even offer him a solution!

However, when he walked in there it was too see Garcia focusing on something on her screen.

“Hey Garcia!” he said happily. He hadn't been able to have an actual conversation with the other in a long time and he wanted to just rant with her. She was the most patient with him and sometimes even joined in with some of his ramblings.

“Hey Spence” she greeted distractedly. Maybe that was one of the clues that Spencer should have taken and left the older girl to her devices before coming back, but he was too stressed and he wanted to talk to his ranting partner.

“Did you know that…” and he continued rambling about the dangers of constantly staring at your screens (we'll just ignore the slight hypocrisy) when he stopped when García banged her hand on the table.

The boy jumped and turned to look at the girl in a mix of confusion and fear. The blonde took a deep breath before turning back to Spencer.

“Listen, Spencer. I love you, okay pumpkin? But currently, I need to do this so please shut up.” and she spun her chair back around and continued back to what she was doing.

Spencer took that as his cue to leave. The other didn't notice as the genius of the BAU turned around and left her office. She didn't notice the dejected look on his face as he turned away, sure that this was another person who was tired of him.

Instance three where people had too much of him (Maybe he shouldn't be asking questions. He is a genius after all)

He hadn't been able to understand why the unsub had the tendency to put a picture of their victims' happiest moments near their dead body and had gone to Rossi to explain it to him.

Not his brightest moments he would admit to that.

He had approached the older man in hopes of learning more from him but maybe he should have done it when the man was feeling better. But it was hard to tell with that man whenever Spencer was around him. He would always have a constant scowl. Maybe he should have taken that as a sign to not continue speaking.

“But why?” Spencer continued to wheedle. He had hated not knowing something. It was truly frustrating.

“Listen, kid.” the older man snapped, turning to glare at the genius. “Maybe for once it would do you some good to not know something. Or maybe just use your genius brain to figure this out. Either way, shut up and stop bothering me!” the older man was almost yelling by now but he lowered his voice at the last minute, making it sound like a vicious hiss. Spencer couldn't help but feel like that felt worse.

Before he could respond to the other, Rossi had turned around and stalked off, muttering things about kid geniuses being a pain in the ass.

Another person left him. Maybe he really was the problem for everything going down.

Instance four where people had too much of him (Maybe he should stop trying to explain things to people. It never turns out well in the end)

Emily and JJ had been talking about a new campaign thing they can do and Spencer had decided to drop in his two cents. Big mistake.

Just as he was about to go into detail about the various colours and where they come from, Emily put her hand up.

“Listen, Reid. Not that we don't appreciate your input.” she began, shooting him a tight smile. The same smile his father would have whenever he explained anything to the older man.

“We don't.” cut in JJ, before stuffing a dorito in her mouth.

“We would much rather you shut up and leave and let us handle this on our own. We don't need or want you to explain this to us.” Emily continued as if she hadn't heard the blonde.

Spencer didn't say anything, just nodded and shakily stood up. He walked out quickly, the only tung he could hear behind him is Emily and JJ talking about the campaign again.

He had lost two people in one go. He hadn't thought he would be able to hit that number after he sent his mother to the asylum. He truly was alone again.

And one instance where someone hadn't had enough of him (A.K.A Aaron Hotchner is the best)

Aaron was confused. Now, this wasn't exactly unusual. In this job, you tended to become really confused when dealing with the crazy things that happened in the BAU.

No, what confused him was the youngest member of the BAU. One Spencer Reid.

Once again, this wasn't exactly shocking. The young genius tended to confuse things with his ramblings about the most random things. Some people would find it annoying but Aaron found it quite endearing. Whilst he might not understand what the genius was blabbering about, he found it nice that the younger man would let down his guard enough to not care what he was talking about and just let things be free.

He also couldn't say anything when those sparkly eyes were targeted at him but no way was he going to admit to that. If anybody found out they would use it to get away with almost anything. Especially Morgan. Aaron inwardly shuddered at the chaos that would cause.

So that's why the agent couldn't possibly understand why Spencer wasn't rambling to him and why he seemed almost scared about even going near him.

“Hey, Reid?” and he couldn't help but feel slight anger when Spencer jumped and flinched when he called his name.

Not anger at Spencer, never. Anger at whoever had hurt him yes.

“Y-yeah?” and the younger man winced before starting again. “I mean yeah Hotch?” and he was fidgeting with his sleeve, looking anywhere but him.

Aaron shot the younger man a look, not liking the lack of rambling.

“I was wondering if you could tell me something about the stars.” and it was an absolutely pathetic attempt at a conversation and he knew that, but he was getting desperate now.

“Umm, well they're up in the sky.” answered the younger man, words coming out more awkwardly than intended and both men winced.

“Cmon. I'm sure there's more than that in your big head. Come on. Tell me more.” the older man encouraged, a small smile on his face.

Spencer shot him a surprised look, and Hotch couldn't help but feel confused.

“Umm well, did you know that…” and hearing the younger ramble made him relax ever so slightly. It was just one of those things that once you get used to it feels too weird not to be around anymore.

However, Hotch’s peace was interrupted by the very boy who started it. “I'm sorry. That's probably enough. I'll shut up now.” he said bashfully, looking down and scratching the back of his neck.

Hotch saw red briefly before calming down. He can get angry later, right now he was going to deal with why the younger man seemed to care that he was rambling so much. He didn't care before, so why know?

“Why would I want you to shut up?” he asked, slowly making his way to the smaller man when he noticed the slight shaking in his shoulders.

“B-because everyone w-wants m-me to s-shut up and I-I don't want to l-lose the o-only family I have l-left” the brunette answered through his choked sobs,

Hotch enveloped the prodigy in his arms, not allowing him to escape. The younger made a small sound of surprise before collapsing into the man, shaking as he continued to son in the man's arms.

When he looked up he realised he had an audience that consisted of a group of oddly guilty-looking BAU members.

Suddenly, something clicked but he needed to make sure.

“Who's everyone, Spence?” he asked gently, contrasting the harsh glare he sent everyone else. A ripple of satisfaction went through him when they all looked away in shame.

“D-Derek, G-garcia, Emily and JJ and R-rossi.” he answered shamefully, burying himself deeper in the man's arms, almost as if he was trying to make sure the older man wouldn't see him in such a weak state and judge him harshly. So that he wouldn't see the look of disappointment.

Hotch felt his heartbreak as the young man in his arms continued to cry. Eventually, those sobs died down and only light breathing could be heard. He must have cried himself to sleep.

Making a split-second decision he quickly gathered the man in his arms before picking him up and laying him down on the couch. He took a blanket that was lying there and draped it over the peacefully sleeping form.

He then turned around to the people who caused this mess.

“Do you guys have anything you want to say or do you want me to make an assumption?” he asked sarcastically, shooting them all a furious look.

“Look, Hotch we didn't kn-”

“Shut up, Derek,” he replied and took little satisfaction when the man in front of him flinched away.

“I don't really care how stressed you guys were, what happened that day, what you ate. But none of that makes it alright to tell the person who was told to shut up for most of their life and mistreated for most of his life to shut up.” he hissed, mindful of the sleeping agent in the room.

When none of them disagreed with him he continued.

“Know, here's what you guys are going to do. You will all listen attentively to whatever he has to say, clear? You all have to do as he says, clear? And if I don't hear him ramble and the only cause is because he's tired I will personally assign all of you to convenience store robberies. Clear?” and he knew that would get them to agree if Spencer’s crying face wasn't.

Nothing is more humiliating than being assigned convenience store robbery cases. They all nodded their heads quickly, not wanting to anger the other man any more than they had.

“Good. Now go. I doubt Spence wants you guys to be the first faces he sees when he wakes up.” and they all scuttered away, like mice.

‘Rats would be more fitting.’ mused Aaron as he turned to the man he'd grown to see as a son.

“Get some rest, k Spence. You're going to need it. After all, tomorrow you're going to have to deal with a bunch of sorry ass' ' and he placed a small kiss on the boy's forehead before making his way out and closing the light and door after him.

Spencer would be okay. And if he wasn't you would have to deal with one Aaron Hotchner.

#spencer reid #derek morgan #Penelope garcia #Jj #emily prentiss #Rossi #aaron hotchner #Rambling #Awkwardness #angst with a hopeful ending #Angst #Hurt/comfort #Dad Aaron hotcher #Guilty BAU #Bau

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alma37 · 3 years

Photo

I checked on AO3 and, a year ago today [02/02/20, for those of you who are a few hours behind France], I started posting for a deliciously wicked fandom, Dracula 2020.

So, to mark the occasion, I decided to post here (on AO3 later today), a little one-shot I thought about a few days ago. I wanted to put it in one of my wip, but it didn’t quite fit. I still liked the idea, though, and I needed to write it.

This is also kind of a gift for @hopipollahorror and @lady-of-the-wolves, my steadiest supporters of late. Thank you, girls, I am not sure I would have started writing again without your support.

For @thebeautyofdisorder, I know you had a rough year and I wish you a great 2021. We have so many tastes in common, It seems I continuously reblog from you. I am well aware it won’t make your troubles disappear, but I hope this little piece will make you forget them for 5 minutes (and that it won’t be perceived as further punishment or what’s the phrase? Cruel and unusual punishment!😉) .

For my other mutuals, I know we don’t talk much, if at all, but I am glad you came to see and stayed.

And, of course, for all my followers, occasional readers and everyone else who took the time to come and check my little nothing of a blog, leave comments, reblogs and likes. Thank you guys.

And now, i leave you with a small piece I had great fun to write. As usual.

I apologise for the long-ish introduction.

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

This is a Dragatha, sometimes in the future (theirs, not ours; perhaps it is our present, in fact, who knows?). Dracula turned Agatha into a vampire. A long time before this fic.

Some sort of enemies with benefits.

And it actually answers to this prompt. I think.

Title : A [h]arrowing evening

Fandom : Dracula TV 2020

Relationship : Agatha x Dracula

Rate : I’d say T or light M

Words : I don’t know, I didn’t count, go check on AO3 when it’s posted!

- Come on, Agatha. Just admit it : you like me!

The former nun turned vampire, Dracula's most fervent opponent, was backed up against the wall, a small wooden arrow in her hand. Why did she decide to come and see him in his own apartment, she’ll never know. Her nemesis was crowding her, a triumphant smile on his face. She defended herself.

- Stop being so arrogant, Count. I don't like you.

- Oh but I think you do. Very much so.

His growing smirk, his roving hands and, mostly his acumen were too much for her. Suddenly blinded by years of pent up rage and frustration, she drove the arrow into his chest with ferocious intent. The small stake slid under his ribs upwards towards his heart.

For a moment, they stayed still face to face, Dracula's smile slowly fading, morphing into an expression of utter stupefaction, as his eyes fell on the weapon thrust into his thorax. Annoyed, Agatha pushed him backwards. To her absolute consternation, he stumbled with a groan, then bent over, his hand reaching blindly for the small piece of wood. His face was now wearing an expression of agony before his legs started to give out under him. With horror, Agatha watched him slowly falling to his knees before his upper body followed suit and he went down like a dead weight. By chance or instinct, he fell to his side, only just avoiding the stake from driving through his heart. Once on the floor, he started writhing in pain, barely able to hold his screams. Finally, Agatha understood : the arrow must have stopped short of piercing the heart, but was probably touching it if his convulsions were any indication.

After a moment of indecision, Agatha grabbed his shoulders to hold him flat on his back then straddled him.

- Stop squirming. You'll only succeed in piercing your heart yourself.

- As if you didn't intend to do it!" Her victim hissed through his pain.

Agatha opened her mouth to retort, then closed it, before she finally replied, surprised with herself :

- I... don't know.

His face was deformed by the unusual pain he was in. She supposed he probably hadn't felt this bad in centuries. Serves him right, but... His strained voice made her jumped out of her thoughts.

- Whatever you intend to do, Agatha, please do it now. It is unbearable.

At his begging tone, the younger vampire froze for a long time, undecided : finish him off, like she promised herself a long time ago, as it was a chance she certainly wouldn't have again, or remove the arrow and stop the bleeding, against all her principles?

Her nemesis was in a state of anguish she had never seen him before. He was shaking so hard, trying to control his body.

But he wasn't begging anymore, just waiting for her decision. She could see in his eyes the torture he was enduring. He still didn't utter another sound.

And she realised that, as much as she thought she hated him, she couldn't bring herself to just end his life, as lifeless as it was.

He was not only a unique creature, he was also the only one who understood her and she realised with a shock that she came to care about him in a way that prevented her from driving the small arrow all the way through his heart. She actually liked their fighting : it was invigorating and, yes, fun. They hadn't really tried to kill each other for years now. His half-hearted attempts to get rid of her, lately, was his way of flirting, she supposed. And apparently, she thought in dismay, became hers too.

But the biggest blow came when she finally realised she actually wanted to tame him somehow or maybe convince him to redeem himself in some ways, which was barely thinkable, much less doable. She just wanted him. Full stop. And annihilating him forever didn't suit her purpose anymore.

- Whenever you want, darling." The count groaned through gritted teeth, his brow drained in sweat.

At last, Agatha came to a decision and, instead of doing what her conscience was telling her, she chose to follow her heart : she wrapped her hand around the piece of arrow that stuck out from his chest and pulled it out without warning.

She was thrown out from his lap by his violent recoil as he screamed out of his lungs in pain. Agatha, not deterred, scrabbled back to him and pinched the wound to stop the bleeding. That last part was easy, as Dracula had promptly passed out.

When she understood he wasn't going to wake up any time soon, she put him to bed and took a book, while keeping watch over him, berating herself all night long for her weakness.

At dawn, the older vampire slowly emerged from unconsciousness. When he opened his eyes, he looked around as if searching for something - or someone. When he found her watching over her book, he started asking in a rough voice : "What..." He cleared his throat several times before trying again :

- What happened?

Agatha lifted an eyebrow.

- Don't you remember?

Dracula began shaking his head :

- I don't... I seem to remember flirting with you and... Ah!" His face cleared. "Yes! You tried to kill me.

Agatha shrugged.

- And I would have succeeded this time.

Dracula straightened up with a groan. Agatha, taking pity on him, piled up a few pillows behind his back and helped him get a more comfortable position on the bed. When she tried to sit back on her armchair, the Count held on to her hand, so she was either obliged to sit on the bed or tried to shake his grip. She chose the easy path and sat next to him.

- So why didn't you finish me off?You had me at your mercy, you could have cleared this world of my evil presence.

Agatha didn't look at him but rather at their joined hands.

- I.. I don't know.

- You would have missed me!

Agatha snapped back.

- Don't be ridiculous!

Dracula smiled his devilish smile.

- You, Agatha van Helsing, like me!

- I most certainly do not!" Agatha protested, outraged. She tried to remove her hand from his, but he was holding fast.

- Well, I wouldn't blame you, you know. I am probably... Definitely head over heels in love with you after last night's little demonstration.

Agatha finally pulled her hand out of his, and stood up, shaking her head.

- You are a...

- monster?

-... beast! And obviously better. So I am leaving. Goodbye, Count Dracula.

Dracula reached for her once more :

- No, wait!

Agatha sighed, annoyed :

- What?

- You could at least kiss it better.

The former nun was about to will him to hell but something in his apparent casualness made her change her mind. She came back to sit on the bed and, after barely an hesitation, she straddled him. She felt him tensed momentarily, probably a reminder of the previous night. But he relaxed when she gently unbuttoned his shirt. She glanced at him and smiled when she saw his look of intense concentration turned towards her. She bent over and she licked the disappearing scar under his ribs. She felt his entire body shudder with pleasure, which made her smile grow larger. She had cleaned him the previous night, so there was no blood to tempt her. His all body was temptation enough. She nibbled at the scar then soothed it with her lips and tongue. Her nemesis had grown rigid from repressed desire. She finally moved from the scar to make her way upwards with slow, languorous and arousing kisses.

The first time he tried to touch her, she took his hands and flattened them back on the bed. The second time, she just held onto them.

The third time, she felt his eagerness wouldn't be denied, so she deftly evaded his grasp before he could close in on her. She moved swiftly out of the bed and put some distance between them, so that he could not reach her fast enough.

- And that's about all the kisses you'll ever have from me. Get a rest, Count Dracula. I will come and check on you tonight.

Without waiting for an answer, she left him in a state of obvious arousal, but laughing at her cunning.

- I can't wait." He called after her. He couldn't resist having the last word. Agatha shook her head in disbelief, but she was smiling.

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

Soooo, what did you think? (If it’s bad, please don’t tell me! 😉)

Anyway, I just really really wanted her to stab him at close range and truly physically HURT him (like Zoe, in TDC, but more purposely, if you know what I mean).

For the arrow, I imagine she has a small-ish one, like those used for a crossbow, except it is completely made of wood, even the tip. Something like that...

But, well, you know me : I always prefer a happy (-ish) ending. Reality’s sad enough. We don’t need it into fiction. In any case, I hope you enjoyed it.

If you really liked it, give me a shout and I’ll post the little follow-up I just had an idea of. Which is more on the comedy side (as in funny).

#dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #dragatha #agatha x dracula #my fanfiction #fanfiction #dragatha snippet #not in my next fanfiction #not that I know of anyway #just a thank you one-shot #to all my dracula2020 followers

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yandere-sins · 4 years

Text

Grin

Yantober List! Feel free to participate at any point :3

Okay this was the hardest. Grin reallyyyy made me think about my choices in life. But I guess it’s more of a filler chapter! Hope you guys enjoy!

»»———————————— ♡ ————————————««

Rhys had many faces. Figuratively, but also quite literally.

He was the cool guy, always a joke on his lips. The one you’d invite to your party the very same night when you met him in the hallway, and he’d accept, asking if he should bring beer. And then actually showed up.

Many had been witness to his cleverness. Sometimes, he even brought fake glasses, putting them on jokingly before getting down to help his classmates. However, it was actually easy to follow his instructions. He took whatever time it needed to explain it properly so that even the last person was able to understand it. Rhys would always pat said person’s back, praising them for doing a good job too, never expecting that anyone paid him back.

Under different circumstances, you might have agreed he was a respectable lover too. His exes could confirm that despite their relationship breaking apart, they never went into different directions on bad terms. He was incredibly attentive and open to any kind of affection. No matter what it took, he always tried to please and help, be a good listener, a guy that always remembered anniversaries.

Really, he was a well-loved, well-respected young man for his age. One that people saw graduating with a high degree, in a field that would give him a high paying job and a lot of backpacks in the future. No one really understood why he’d set out a whole semester out of the blue, but they all blamed the death of a good friend of him, and that was that. No one expected the real reason behind it.

You.

Some could have argued that meeting you was not only the end of your life but also his. All of Rhys’s interests changed suddenly in favor of you. All his thoughts, interactions, words circled around you, and you were all that he was interested in. It was hard to describe how someone could change so much overnight, but that was just because it never happened before, and Rhys never let anyone see his changes.

Suddenly, if it didn’t have you in it, things weren’t interesting anymore. He’d still go on fun events with his friends, but only when you tagged along, and he’d help your friends out much more than his, hoping you’d join in. This was his new thing, the new Rhys. A Rhys that could not bear to go without his daily dose of you, and he was never satisfied anymore without it.

That face of his when he lost all interest after being told you wouldn’t join the event… it was scary.

So blank, so void of emotions. As if his life suddenly didn’t matter anymore. His voice could be sincere or joking, but it didn’t reach his facial play. There was simply… nothing. And it scared anyone who looked at him.

But the literal worst where the faces only you knew.

The face of pleasure, which he showed you whenever Rhys fell into a circle of thoughts about how much he loved you, never missed making you uncomfortable. It was just too sincere. He was too excited, brimming with happiness. More often than not, you had to swallow the bitter reality to see this specific face, let him touch and grope you in ways you did not want it. Other times, you just knew he was fantasizing about you after watching you do something very mundane like scratch your face in embarrassment or play with his fingers. It had been cute to see him so lovestruck at first, but by now, you realized that there was nothing sweet nor normal about it.

Oftentimes, when you ‘misbehaved’ you also became a victim of his emotionless stare. Still, the one he gave you was even worse than the one other people witnessed on him. It frequently came with the endless dread of knowing he could snap any second, but he never let you know when. There could be lashing out, screaming at you, violent outbursts, but you never knew if they would happen or when, and that made you much more anxious than the prospect of his tantrums. Rhys’s eyes were bristled with disappointment, anger, spite, but everything else was just a blank, straight face that made your neck hair rise, and you folded into yourself even before something happened, scared.

However, if there had been anyone to ask you which one was the worst of them all, the absolute most terrifying one you had to describe, it would have been his grin.

Simple, easy, just his grinning face.

There were so many things that were unsettling you about it. Sometimes, it was just a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. For example, if he was holding polite small talk, but at the same time, press his hand into the small of your back, letting you know that it was out of question that you could do anything stupid. It felt like he had control over you despite doing almost nothing. Nothing really could have stopped you from spilling the beans, screaming, crying, or running, but when you looked at his face for just a matter of a few seconds, your blood froze, the grin he gave you a silent yet effective warning.

Or the times when you actually did something wrong, and he let you know just how worthless you were. Usually, he’d be all “I love you” and “You are the most important person in my life” but when you did something that Rhys did not approve of, misbehaved in any way, or tried to annoy him deliberately, this grin would put you back in place, letting you know about how displeased he was and that there wouldn’t be dinner for you that evening.

You kind of wanted to provoke him, but it still makes you uneasy.

But the worst one - and you’d never forget it, it was ingrained in your brain forever - was the one grin he gave you after your punishment. Laying in his arm, you were ready to settle this ‘argument’ aside for the day when you made the mistake of looking up at him. The cold shudder in your back was less of a reaction Rhys might have expected, but what you saw in his face shocked you, and you quickly looked away, wanting to move out of his arms, but he only held you tighter. His grin spoke of achievement, of winning. Of his superiority over you. Ever since you met this grin, you were adamant about never wanting to see it again, as it was abominable and cruel to see how confirmed he was in his thinking and doing. Looking away, you’d try to hide, not wanting to think of the what next and how to handle this situation.

And at that moment, both of you knew you lost, and Rhys won, even if this thought made you nauseous.

Continue

#Yantober #Yandere #Yandere Headcanons #Yandere Scenarios #Yandere Oneshot #yandere writing #yandere fanfiction #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x oc #yandere tw #Rhys #Rhys Aspen

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byeoltoyuki · 4 years

Text

Into you ⇾ JHS

↳Pairing : You x Hoseok

Genre : Smut

Words: +5k

Warnings : spanking, fingering, public sex (kind of), unprotected sex, biting, voyeurism, hair pulling

A/N : Damn, I’m not convinced with this one, but here you go babe @hopikoya

*******

"I’m not getting drunk tonight." You told Hoseok as he drove you to Taehyung’s party. A party that would without a doubt be magnificent; loud music, tons of people (because Taehyung knew half of the town), and unlimited access to different kind of alcohol. Taehyung’s parties were always wild and you went to many of them which ended with you being completely wasted and a few times you couldn’t remember how you got back to your place (you guessed Hoseok was the one to bring you home.) This time, however, you decided to be a little more responsible and drink less.

Hoseok glanced at you, seeming a tiny bit (completely) unconvinced. "You said it the last time too. And the time before."

"Exactly my point! I was wasted as hell! I woke up at my place but with hickeys all over my neck." You shuddered at the memory. Till this day, you still couldn’t remember who had marked you. "I’m not doing this again."

If Hoseok still didn’t believe you, he didn’t comment. "But you’re obviously getting laid tonight."

You chocked on your spit, completely taken off guard. "What."

Hoseok stopped at a red light and looked at you. You had always put much efforts in your outfits whenever you would go out, especially to parties (even if, to him, you always looked good), but tonight, he had to admit, you had outdone yourself. You wore a dark red dress that offered a very nice view of your collarbone; a split on the right side, exposing some more skin. He licked his lips, eyes wandering all over your body before looking back at your face.

There was something about the way Hoseok was staring at you that made you flush, squeezing your thighs together, you sank deeper into your seat. You wanted to cower before him and look anywhere but at him and yet, the stubborn side of you refused to let go. Whoever said that Hoseok was a ray of sunshine and never took anything seriously had obviously lied because right now, he looked absolutely intimidating.

You gulped nervously.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." You said nervously, mouth suddenly dry and voice weak and shaky.

He playfully wiggled his brows, going back to his cheerful self. "Sure you don’t know."

"I’m not like you!" You huffed and averted your eyes from his face.

"Rude." But he only laughed and the light turned green.

No matter how many times you visited Taehyung’s place, you were still amazed by how huge it was. It was a damn penthouse that was way too big for only one person to live in, but Taehyung did. But then again, he was rarely alone. Tonight, his place was turned into a nightclub, music blasting as you arrived.

It was barely midnight but it seemed like the party had started earlier than planned. Some were dancing in the middle of the main room, some were drinking and talking in groups, some were making out completely oblivious to their surroundings and some would soon enough end up half naked.

"Well." Hoseok started with a chuckle. "I know I shouldn’t be surprised considering Taehyung is the one organizing this party, but wow." Then, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and brought you closer to his side. "Still sure you won’t get wasted?"

You nudged him in the stomach for that. He whined in protest, holding his arms over his stomach. "Meanie!"

"Don’t test me!" You warned him, poking his arm a few times.

Bickering with Hoseok was one of your favorite activity. It was always childish, fun and innocent. Okay, maybe not so innocent. On few occasions, it turned into something unexpected, intense and overwhelming that left you question the nature of your relationship with Hoseok. He was your friend, a very dear and handsome friend; until recently you hadn’t considered him as something else.

But things changed. You weren’t sure what exactly changed, but it did. You couldn’t ignore how easily your heart would flutter whenever he said something sweet. You couldn’t ignore how easily he made you blush or stutter. In short, you were in trouble and didn’t know how to deal with it.

"Y/N!" A very familiar and sweet voice called for you. You barely had time to raise your head, only to be engulfed into strong arms. Jimin had pounced on you, forcing you into a tight bear hug. As enthusiastic as ever. He lifted you from the floor and spun you around, giggling madly.

"Jimin!" You laughed, holding at his shoulders for support.

He put you back on the floor and cupped your cheeks, squishing them (you swore to kill him one day for it) and smiling brightly at you. "My favorite girl is here! Now the party can begin!"

You rolled your eyes at him and slapped his hands away from your face. "As if you needed my presence to start drinking!"

He poked your cheeks in response. "Yes I do!"

"Liar. I can smell your breath."

"Oh yeah?" Jimin's eyes shone brightly and with mischief. This boy was uncontrollable and sometimes you questioned your poor (great) decision of befriending him. He leaned closer to you, acting like he wanted to kiss you only to have Hoseok's hand shoving him far away from you. "Party pooper!"

"Yeah yeah." Hoseok shook his head, feigning annoyance when in fact he was just as amused.

"You just want to keep Y/N for yourself!" Jimin complained

You expected Hoseok to laugh at that and answer with something equally dumb, he, however, didn't laugh and only glared darkly at Jimin. Now that was new.

"Can you blame him?" Taehyung's voice interrupted the bickering and you all turned to look at him. "Well, look who's finally here." Taehyung joined you with two glasses of what looked like mojito, smiling widely at you. One he handed right to you and the other one he kept for himself (you didn't peg him as a mojito guy, even if you knew he made great mojitos).

You eyed your glass for a short moment, pondering whenever you should try it or not. If Taehyung made it, it could be lethal. Too many times already, you had accepted his drinks and regretted it the next day.

"Hi Tae. You made it?"

"No." He blinked innocently at you as if you would believe him.

You, of course, didn't.

"I wouldn't drink that if I was you." Jimin warned you, cringing at the glass. He, too, was victim of too many mojitos.

"For once, I agree with him." Hoseok approved

"You're overreacting!" Taehyung feigned innocent but none of you bought it.

You shrugged and took a sip. You winced, making a face that made laugh the three men. "Fuck. Tell me, how much rum did you pour in exactly?"

"Probably half of the bottle knowing him." Hoseok sniffed your drink. No matter how much mint he put in, the smell of alcohol was stronger than ever. "Yep. It's strong."

You promised to yourself to drink only one glass.

Except you sucked at keeping promises you made to yourself. One glass turned into two, and two turned into three. By the third mojito you felt light-headed and happier than ever. You drank, you talked, you danced and repeat the whole process from the beginning.

Jimin pulled you among dancing people, giggling, just as happy about this party, but what made him even happier was dancing with you.

"You always avoid dancing with me." He complained to you, his hands wandering over your body, getting all to close to your butt.

You caught his hands and placed them on your hips. "And this is exactly why I don't dance with you. You can't keep your hands for yourself."

He huffed, half offended. "You're no fun."

Jimin was a touchy person, maybe a little too much and he was a flirt, you knew for a fact. It never bothered you and you never took him seriously but tonight he was being touchier than ever which made you wonder what was up with him.

"Hobi is watching." He finally said, leaning a little closer so you could hear him better despite the loud music.

You cocked a brow at him. So what if Hoseok was watching? That should have been your thought, except it wasn't. You were tempted to glance over your shoulder and see for yourself, to prove that Jimin was just being a little shit and messing with you. But you didn't dare. What if he was right? Could your poor little heart handle it?

Jimin, however, made the decision for you. He spun you in his arms so your back would be tightly pressed against his chest, arms circling your waist as you faced Hoseok. And what a sight. Your heart leapt in your throat and unconsciously you pressed yourself a little bit harder against Jimin. Hoseok was staring right back at you, just like Jimin had told you, a drink in his hand. He bit on his lips when your eyes met, and despite the poor light you could tell his eyes were dark.

"I think he's jealous." Jimin whispered in your ear, warm breath tickling your ear.

You shivered; whenever it was because of Jimin's words, or his warm breath, or Hoseok's intense gaze, you weren't sure.

"Don't be silly." You finally replied, finding it quite difficult to agree with him.

"Oh I think I'm right." Jimin's grip tightened around your waist and to your utter surprise, Hoseok's reacted instantly, clenching his fist and frowning at the two of you.

It couldn't be, you repeated to yourself.

"I think you should talk to him. Don't you remember what happened last time?"

Now that got all your attention. You put some space between your bodies and looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Remember last time how drunk you were?" Jimin grinned all too widely at you and suddenly he wasn't the sweet friend you know but the devil himself.

"Yes. What about it?"

He shook his head, "Y/N, my sweet Y/N." He touched your cheek, stroking it softly before pinching it. "You obviously don't remember how cute you were that night. And you obviously don't remember how you latched on him when he was dancing with another girl. You told her the girl to fuck off because he was yours."

Oh hell no. You were horrified. You couldn't have been that drunk, could you? You could. You knew it.

"How, how did he react?"

"Nicely, I guess? He brought you home."

That piece of information didn't comfort you as much as you wished.

"Go." Jimin pushed you lightly, smiling this time brightly at you. "Talk to him."

"Now or never huh." You told to yourself

Taking a deep breath, you headed towards Hoseok who as soon as he saw you walking , quirked a brow at your change of plans.

"What's up with all the angry glaring?" You joked

It was harder than you thought to act nonchalant when your heart was roaring in your ears. You didn't want him to know how you felt, not until you were sure about how he felt.

"Angry?" Hoseok chuckled, "I'm not."

"Sure." But you didn't insist and instead eyed his drink that had a rather funny color. "The hell are you drinking? Looks nasty." You scrunched your nose at the sight.

"Namjoon made it."

"Then it's nasty."

To that he actually agreed and yet it didn't stop him from drinking.

For the first time since you had met Hoseok, you actually didn't know what to say or how to act. You were confused and a little bit lost (and completely overwhelmed if you wanted to be honest with yourself). You sighed and averted your eyes from his face. What did you expect? You didn't know how to talk about something you couldn't remember in the first place and Hoseok's odd calmness didn't help much either.

Hoseok clicked his tongue and emptied his glass in one go, wincing slightly; he had made up his mind. Without you noticing him, he moved closer to you, standing right behind you. He caged you in between his arms and pressed his chest to your back. You froze at the proximity, breath hitching in your throat, you didn't dare to move and waited for what he wanted to do.

"Tell me Y/N," Hoseok started whispering to your ear, mouth awfully close. "Do you want to know who gave you those hickeys that night?"

Your body shivered in response. Those words were enough for you to know already the answer and before you could think of a proper answer, images flooded your already blurred mind.

Flashback

You were drunk. No, drunk would be an understatement. You were way beyond drunk, completely wasted; you kept giggling, finding everything and everybody funny around you, and sadly for Hoseok, he was the one to deal with you. Not like he really minded, especially not after the, he had to give it to you, cute and impressive confession at the party. He hadn't seen it coming but it touched him in more ways than he was willing to admit. Yes, he noticed the changes in your relationship. Yes, he started seeing you in a different light, but he wasn't ready to cross the line, fearing what kind of disaster could come up. But hearing you claiming him did change his mind.

What if it could be a good thing? If only you weren't wasted.

"Hobi! Look! Look!" You called for him, spinning around with arms spread widely, head up to the sky. "The night is so beautiful!" You spun around one more time before stumbling and if it wasn’t for Hoseok’s quick reflex, you would have fall on the ground.

His arms were quick to circle your body and bring you closer to him. "I think that's enough for today." He finally said, his grip tightening around your body.

You, of course, didn't think it was enough. The night was still young, or at least you thought so. You wanted to have some more fun, to run around, especially since Hoseok was with you.

"Oh come on!" You pouted

"No. Look, we're almost at your place." It was harder than he thought to say no to you, especially when you looked so cute. "Come on, Y/N."

You pushed him away, trying to escape, in vain. Hoseok wasn't drunk compared to you, he was quick to catch you and throw you on his shoulder, giving your butt a slap to calm you down.

"Hobi!" You protested and hit his back. "Put me down!"

"Nope. We're going home."

But if he thought you would calm down and sober up a little by the time he got you home, he was wrong. The moment he put you back on the floor of your living room, you huffed in annoyance. You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at him, pondering whenever you wanted to pretend being annoyed or rather do something else. Being drunk had its perks after all, you could let your feelings dictate your behavior and right now you were dying to kiss him.

So you did it, without thinking twice. You got on your tiptoes and pulled him by his collar before capturing his lips. His lack of response would have discouraged you if you were sober, but the you now was drunk and wasn't ready to give up just yet.

You nibbled at his lower lip, wanting him to react, wanting him to give up all resistance. And he did. With a low growl, he grabbed your head, crushing your body against his as he welcomed your tongue. He took completely control over the kiss and you gladly let him, just so eager to have him, to feel him. It was no longer a soft kiss, no, it was sloppy and rushed and filled with need and lust.

But it didn't last. Hoseok was first to break the kiss, pushing you gently from him. It took him all his willpower to control himself and not to give in.

"Why." You didn't understand him. He kissed you back, you weren't imagining things. "I like you a lot and not just as a friend."

You weren't making things easy for him, Hoseok told himself. He ruffled his hair in frustration. If only you weren't drunk.

"Y/N, you're drunk."

"And so? I want you!" You couldn't be any clearer about your intentions but it didn't seem enough for him.

Annoyed and bothered, you decided to push his buttons further. You grabbed the edge of your dress and pulled it over your head, leaving you in pretty red undergarments before him.

Hoseok inhaled sharply, he clenched his fist so hard his knuckles turned white as he tried to control himself. You were a tease and in other circumstances he would have punished you for that.

"Sure you don't want a piece of that?" You teased him shamelessly. You threw your dress at him, giggling, you started running towards your room, silently praying that Hoseok would follow you.

And he did. Before you could even reach your room, he had captured you, trapping you between his body and the wall, hands at each side of your head, he didn't look amused at all.

Eyes dark and hungry, he couldn't stop himself from admiring your exposed body. You were perfect and never in his life had he wanted someone so badly.

"You're a tease." He growled and leaned dangerously close.

"Me? Never."

Hoseok clicked his tongue, displeased with your response but you didn't stop there, only proving him that you were indeed a tease. You hooked your leg around his waist, wanting him to feel just how much you wanted him, how much you needed him.

"Shit. Y/N." He groaned, feeling just how wet for him you already were.

"See, I want you, so badly." You whimpered, begging him to help you.

And then, he kissed you; a bruising, hot kiss that left you panting and wanting more. His lips traveled from your lips to your neck, kissing every inch of your skin, marking you so you could remember for days.

You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling at it whenever he sucked too hard on your skin, bringing him even closer to you. His lips set your whole body on fire and you knew that you would probably die if he didn't touch you.

Sadly for you, Hoseok stopped. He pulled away from you and reached his hand out to touch your cheek.

"I do want you Y/N." He admitted, voice and eyes so soft you could melt into puddle. "But not like that."

"Hoseok-"

"If by morning you still remember this, then we'll talk."

The talk never came.

Back to present,

How could you forget your own confession was beyond your comprehension. You were stupid but what made you even angrier with yourself was the fact that you dared to forget Hoseok’s reaction to your confession. And here you were doubting the nature of your relationship, being scared of your own feelings when he already knew and accepted them.

"Hobi." You turned to look at him, confusion and guilt written all over your face. You made him wait for too long already, you realized. "I’m so sorry."

Hoseok’s face softened for a second before leaning closer. "I know a way for you to make up for your mistake."

His simple suggestion sent a shock of arousal between your legs - you gulped, nervous yet excited at what he had on mind. He took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze before leading you upstairs. You should have told him to get back home, that would be the wisest thing to do, except, just like Hoseok, you couldn’t wait. Not again.

You didn’t make it to any room - Hoseok had you pinned against a wall in the hall. All softness from his face had vanished and was replaced with lust and hunger. You were completely hypnotized, unable to think straight, unable to breathe; all you could do was inhale sharply as he stared at you.

"I remember you being a huge tease that night." Hoseok finally said, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your eyes and your lips. "Do you know how badly I wanted you back then?"

"You should have taken me then." You whispered

"You know I couldn’t." He shook his head, finger gently brushing your lips, "But now, I won’t hold back." With that, he reclaimed your mouth. Hands gripping your face tightly, the kiss was nothing like you had imagined. It was rough and needy, and breathtaking and everything you ever wanted. He worked his mouth against yours, sliding his tongue in between your parted lips, he got you moaning into the kiss with just a kiss.

"It wasn’t very nice of you to tease me like that, Y/N." Hoseok said against your lips. "And then, you dared to forget all about it." He growled and bit at your lower lip.

You were slowly drowning in his touch. You didn’t know till now just how addicting this man was and you wished you had realized it sooner. Your heart roared in your ears, making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

"Do you know how hard it was for me to forget how gorgeous you looked in those red undergarments?" His hand slid along your neck, fingers soft against your skin, tracing an invisible line from your jaw to your collarbone. You were a perfect white canvas for him to work on. And he did it. He latched his lips over your neck, teasing you with his tongue before biting harshly at your skin, marking every inch of your neck so you could never forget about him.

"Hoseok." You let out a soft gasp at his attacks which caused your hand to fly to his hair, fisting them, you pulled his head even closer to you. You felt him smile against your skin, relishing in the way he made you feel.

But it wasn’t enough. You were getting impatient and wanted more.

"So responsive." He whispered against you. His right hand reached for your thigh, raking nails across your skin.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he shoved his hand between your legs, palming your drenched pussy. You arched your back in response and started grinding shamelessly against his hand. God, you wanted him to touch you. You wanted to feel him, his fingers, his cock, anything.

"You’re so wet, love." He glanced at your face; flushed, eyes closed, lips parted - he let out an animalistic growl. And here he thought he would play with you longer, but seeing you so wounded up just made him want to ruin you. "Do you want my cock that much?"

"Yes." You breathed, "So so much."

"Hmm." He hummed as he stroked your covered clit. "Look who’s being so honest now." And then, he gave your pussy a harsh slap that made you cry out his name louder than you expected. "You see Y/N, I don’t think you deserve my cock."

Taking you off guard, Hoseok pulled away from you. You stared at him in disbelief, he couldn’t leave you like that. You tried to stop him and pull him back but he was faster. He grabbed your arm and spun you in his arm so your front was pressed to the wall.

His chin fell to your shoulder, hot breath fanning over your neck. "Aren’t you a bad girl?"

"I’m not." You protested, half delirious, dying with need. "I swear I’m going to be good for you."

Hoseok chuckled at how desperate you sounded before hiking your dress up - he rubbed gently, lovingly your ass, giving you the impression that he had finally decided to show you mercy. He, of course, didn’t.

"I’m going to ruin you, Y/N." Hoseok promised you and with that he gave your ass a strong slap - you jolted. Hands soaked across the wall, you tried to steady yourself, knees getting weaker with every slap.

One, two, you stopped counting. Your flesh slowly blooming red with his attacks but you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. Hell, you loved it. Every slap sent tingles of excitement through your body. His palm met again your ass but this time he rubbed the red spot gently, soothing the sting.

He peppered your neck, your shoulder with kisses, making you forget all about the pain that was soon replaced with pleasure and longing.

"Hoseok." You moaned, needy. "Please touch me."

"You need to be more precise, love." He whispered to your ear, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth. "Tell me what you want."

"I want your fingers inside me. I want your cock." You hurried to answer, pushing your ass against his aching shaft.

And he gladly gave it to you. Hoseok pushed your panties to the side and slowly dragged his finger from your slit to your clit, feeling how wet you were, teasing you which only made you whimper desperately. What did you need to do to have his fingers inside you? You didn't have time to ponder on the question as he slid easily a finger inside your heat.

Finally. Relieved to have at least his finger inside you, your pussy clenched around him. You threw back your head in pure bliss, letting pretty soft gasps as he moved his finger slowly inside you. It was a delicious torture and you wished he gave you more.

And he did. He added another finger, stretching you nicely, letting your hungry cunt swelling his fingers.

"Hoseok." You mewled his name, body burning with pleasure and need.

He slid his fingers out of you, glancing at them - he licked his lips in delight. "Open up, love." He brought his fingers to your mouth and you eagerly parted your lips, welcoming his fingers inside your mouth. You swirled your tongue over his fingers, tasting yourself. It was messy, sinful, but you relished in the feeling.

"So good for me." He groaned and planted a kiss right under your ear which made you shudder, knees ready to give in.

Luckily for you, Hoseok felt it too. He put his right hand on your hip to steady you while the left one gently pushed your forward. You knew what was coming and you couldn't contain your excitement.

With his knee, he spread your legs wider before putting back his hand on your ass, gently stroking your abused skin that was still bright red. He took out his cock only to tease you some more by brushing it lightly against your clit.

"Hoseok!" You whined, unable to control yourself any longer - you pushed back against him, wanting him inside you. "Please, don't tease."

He chuckled and his hand met again your ass, spanking you hard for being so impatient. But eventually, he gave you what you desperately needed. Slowly, he eased himself inside you.

"Fuck, yes." You breathed, closing your eyes, he stretched your pussy just like you wanted.

"Shit, Y/N, you're so tight." He growled, fingers digging into your skin as he tried to control himself. It was harder than he thought, especially when all he wanted was to fill you in just one go and pound into you.

"Hobi, you feel so good."

He filled you to the brim only to pull out slowly, dragging his cock against your inner walls, admiring how you squirmed, how your fingers tried to dig into the wall, before slamming back inside you in one go.

Hoseok set a rough and hard pace, leaving you no time to adapt or to catch your breath, instead you were left moaning loudly, crying out his name.

"Hoseok, you feel so good!" Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through your body. Your mind turned blank, all you could think was how good he made you feel and how empty you had been all this time without him.

"So do you, love." His grip on you got tighter as a particularly strong thrust had you moan louder than ever.

"Right there! Fuck, don't stop."

And he did as he was told, hitting harder the spot that got you tears prickling in the corner of your eyes.

If you weren't so lost, so overwhelmed with Hoseok's cock, maybe you would have noticed that you weren't so alone in the hall anymore. Maybe you would have noticed how Hoseok's grip on your hips became so strong it would bruise later, just because he had noticed the intruder.

Taehyung leant against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the scene before his eyes. He stared at your exposed body, at your face that showed just how much pleasure Hoseok's cock brought you. He licked his lips, enjoying the show a little more than he should and Hoseok saw that.

Hoseok growled. He could have told Taehyung to get out (despite being at his place), but instead with his right hand he grabbed your hair and pulled at them, making you arch your back. His groans became more feral as your pussy clenched harder around him; you were close, so close.

"Are you close, love?" He muttered to your ear.

"Yes, so close."

"Good." Was all he said.

A moment later, you came completely undone, mouth dropping open in a silent cry as pleasure seared through you. Hoseok kept fucking you, no matter how shaky and breathless you were, seeking his own release. Shortly, he poured himself into you.

Taehyung clapped his hands. "You know, next time you decide to have sex at my place, you might as well invite me."

The sound of his voice brought you back from your trance. You snapped your head to the side only to see him winking at you and leaving without another word.

"Shit." You wanted to hide, instead you pressed yourself against the wall and whined. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Because you were close and so was I." Hoseok shrugged and pulled slowly out. Your pussy clenched, filling suddenly terribly empty, wanting him back inside you.

Hoseok wrapped his arms protectively around you and pressed you against him, lips latching on your neck, jaw before reaching for you lips.

"Just so you know, if you forget one more time about me, I'll never let you come again." He threatened you with a sweet smile on his face.

"Noted."

#hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #jimin #taehyung #bts fic #hoseok x reader

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green-eyed-whumpster · 4 years

Text

My OC Universe: Rowan 60

Chapter 60 Summary: Cordelia takes Rowan from the dungeon, and gives him some nice clothes. (Tagglietelle: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: Horse fear?

Cordelia held his arm as she led Rowan out of the dungeons. His feet stumbled over the stone in his eagerness to leave, and when he felt the pavers, warmed from the sun, under his soles he closed his eyes softly.

“Can-can I please just…stand here a moment longer?” He asked, soaking in the yellow warmth. “Rowan, we shouldn’t let any of the servants see you,” She replied carefully. “If you are cold you can have this,” She unclasped the cloak hanging around her shoulders and draped it over him. “Are you going to kill me?” He asked gently, the kind gesture filling his chest with fear. “What? No! Of course not!” She exclaimed, turning to face him properly. “I promised Marie that you would disappear. And you will. I’ll take you back to Peter.” She said as she placed her hands on his shoulders. “You…you will?” He breathed in disbelief. “Of course, I will! He’ll be so happy to realise that you’re alive.” Rowan startled her by falling to his knees and hugging her legs, soft sobs muffled by her trousers. “Thank you…thank you so much!” She bit her lip as her hands hovered over his head, unsure of how to properly console the boy. “Ro-Rowan,” She muttered as her fingers brushed his hair. “We should…I’ll take you to a store closet and we can get you some normal clothes, but I meant it when I said the servants shouldn’t see us.” He paused as he realised he was jeopardising their chance to leave by being weak. He released her quickly and scrambled to his feet, wiping his eyes hurriedly. “All right, I-I’m sorry,” He sniffed and hid his hands under the cloak. “No, it’s fine, just, the sooner we leave, the sooner you’re free.” Free. He nodded eagerly and she smiled at him softly, pulling up the hood of the cloak and wrapping her arm around his shoulders. “Keep your head down and stay quiet, no one should notice us.” She said as she began leading him down the hall, he simply nodded, hands balled in the cloak to keep it covering him entirely, grateful for her comforting arm on his shoulders. He flinched whenever he heard another set of footsteps, curling into Cordelia to avoid the spectre from seeing him. She led him through secret passages to the tailor’s storeroom, piled high with spare uniforms for all seasons and smelling pleasantly of linen and potpourri. “Let me just see how big you are,” She muttered, gently prying apart the front of the cloak, taking in his petite form and chewing her lip. “I don’t need anything special,” He said hopefully. “Anything that works is more than enough for me.” She smiled as she looked at him before turning to the pigeon-holes stacked with the clothing, reaching for one labelled ‘Boy’s Trousers’. She handed the brown woollen pants to Rowan and moved along the rows, looking for the box which said, ‘Boy’s Shirts – Autumn’. “Put those on while I find you some shoes and socks.” She said, handing him the light tunic. “I-will I need shoes?” He asked and she hesitated before shaking her head. “Not really, but it’s more comfortable if your feet aren’t bare.” He concentrated for the moment in removing his old clothes, carefully pulling on the shirt.

It was such a ridiculous thing, but he felt so much comfort when the sleeves hung from his arms, and his head had to push slightly to get it through the hole for his neck, only a fraction of his collarbone showing, instead of the tunic’s short sleeves and low neck, delving down to the base of his ribs. And the trousers, they may have been a bit rougher than the cotton shorts he usually wore, but he liked the weight of them hanging down his legs, covering them completely.

He heard Cordelia as she knocked wrong-sized shoes away somewhere nearby, a small huff told him that she had found some, and was moving back towards the corner Rowan was waiting in. “Here, they should fit,” She sighed, holding them and a pair of socks to him. “Thank you,” He muttered, crouching the pull them on. He paused, as a sudden and uncomfortable knot wormed in his stomach. “Cordelia,” He whispered, catching her interest as she rummaged for a coat. “What…what happened to Oliver?” She bit her lip softly and paused. “He-he isn’t dead, is he?” Rowan whimpered. He couldn’t face the possibility that because of him Oliver had been killed. “No, Rowan, he isn’t dead,” She said, moving back towards him. “But, your guard struggled when he was being arrested, he’s not well at the moment, but he should be alive.” Rowan sank to the ground and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Can I see him?” He asked and Cordelia shook her head. “We should leave as soon as possible.” Rowan pressed the heels of his hands into his mouth in a futile attempt to mute the sound of him sobbing desperately. “Rowan…” “Just-just give me a minute! Please,” He whimpered, sniffling violently as his chest stuttered. Cordelia nodded softly and returned to the piles of clothes. He allowed himself his minute of shameless muffled bawling, tears and mucus mixing together on his face as he choked the loudest of the sounds.

But eventually he knew that Cordelia would grow tired of waiting for him, and he didn’t want to upset his ticket out of the castle. He wiped his face with his hands and Cordelia appeared in front of him, holding out a handkerchief. “Thank you!” He gasped and gingerly rubbed his nose with it. “Don’t thank me, Rowan,” She sighed gently. “I should have saved you when I first realised you were here. It’s my fault that much of the worst things happened to you,” She muttered, helping him up. “N-no! I-of course not! It-it was my fault!” She scoffed as she wrapped a coat that was too big around his shoulders. “You were the victim, Rowan. It isn’t your fault.” She said, catching his cheek with her fingertips and forcing him to meet her eyes, to understand how serious she is. “But with a man like William, I knew what would cause him to punish me. I killed someone; he could have had me killed.” Rowan argued. “I knew enough to be able to avoid his anger, so it was my fault. You don’t…you don’t blame a bear for mauling a hunter. You blame the hunter for getting close enough to be hurt. The bear won’t change, so you were being irresponsible for approaching it and not it expecting to attack you.” As Rowan quoted the familiar words Cordelia’s mouth twitched softly. “Peter was talking about assholes in the tavern or people known for screwing over workers. Where the consequences were wounded pride and a few bruises or being cheated of a wage promised. Not of a spoiled monarch who tried to take your personality and crush it into a little ornament he could wear proudly. Cruel people are cruel.” She said, brushing his dirty hair over his eyes. “Anyone with a soul would feel ill when they realise how awfully you were treated. Even Marie, you may have guessed she wasn’t too fond of you,” Rowan nodded certainly, and she smiled gently at him. “But she was appalled when she saw the way he treated you. Even though she didn’t realise the true level of your relationship, she frequently complained that you were treated like an animal.” “Oh,” Was all that Rowan could think to say in response to the revelation that Marie didn’t entirely despise him. That maybe some of her scorn was misdirected because of William’s treatment. “Speaking of Marie, we should be going.” Cordelia added, bundling the stolen clothes into a sheet and pushing them into Rowan’s arms. “Same as before, stay quiet and stick by me, all right?” Rowan nodded, adrenaline rushing through his limbs at the reality of his freedom.

He followed Cordelia like a shadow, eyes glued to her feet, so he remained right by her side. She led him outside to a part of the gardens he was unfamiliar with, a wooden structure surrounded by wet dirt and mud stood before him, rustling sounds and soft whinnies coming from inside. He was grateful for the shoes now that the turned soil sunk beneath him. “Prepare my horse!” Cordelia called into the building, waiting until she heard a sound of affirmation before turning her attention to Rowan. “I need to go back to the port-side of the city to retrieve my things,” She explains. “I left them when I came back recently because I knew that the coup was coming, but at least once we get them it will be an easier trip home.” He nodded as a stableboy brought out a dark brown horse, he flinched and instinctively stepped back as he saw the animal, and Cordelia looked at him with concern. “What’s wrong?” She asked and he tore his eyes away from the creature to look at her, watching as she snatched the reigns from the boy’s hands. “That’s a bit rude, isn’t it?” He murmured weakly and she shook her head, glaring at the boy. “Not the way they’ve been treating you.” She answered, causing the boy to cower under her gaze and scurry off. “But they weren’t that bad,” Rowan argued. “Maybe not directly to your face, but if you don’t wear a crown, or a crest, then servants will say anything. Poisonous gossip being a favourite.” She spat, walking closer to Rowan. “Now, what was your problem with horses?” He was embarrassed to have to admit it. He was already so weak before Cordelia, he had burst into ugly, wet, sobs twice since they left the dungeon. “I-in the past, I haven’t really…enjoyed, the way I travelled on them,” He muttered, averting his gaze from Cordelia. “Oh, all right,” She sighed softly, looking at the beast. “I have an idea,” She said and grabbed the saddle, lifting herself gracefully up onto the horse. Waiting until it steadied before holding a hand to Rowan. “I’ll take your clothes if you like,” She said, reaching for them, Rowan watched as she jammed the lump of cloth in between her and the saddle pommel, testing its security before now reaching to Rowan. “Put one foot in the stirrup,” She instructed as he takes her hand. “Not that one,” She added, causing Rowan to hesitate curiously, she meant for his right foot to leverage him up onto the saddle, meaning that he would face away from the front of the horse. “Trust me,” She encouraged, prompting him to nervously place his foot in the stirrup and look at her for confirmation before attempting to lift himself up. “Hold on, let me help.” She leaned over and placed his hands in the right places before steadying her own on his ribs. “I’ll count to three and then throw yourself up, once you’re balancing up straight you can carefully lift your other leg over so you sit against my chest, sound good?” She asked and he nodded eagerly. “One…two…three!” He let out a soft squeal as he pushed himself up off the ground and struggled to keep his grip on the saddle and not release it to grab Cordelia. “Good job, that was perfect!” She soothed, gently tightening her grip on his sides. “Now lift your leg slowly over the horse’s back, so we don’t startle him.” Rowan nodded as warmth pooled in his stomach from the praise. Before he knew it, he was sitting on the wad of clothing and Cordelia was angling his legs, so they rested over hers. He whined softly as he felt himself being opened up, but soon the familiar and comforting smell of her soap snapped him out of his daze and he curled into her chest. “Can I stay like this?” He asked softly, lips incredibly close to her neck. “It’s really comfortable,” “Of course,” Cordelia replied, wrapping an arm around his back and pushing him gently into her torso. “Just relax, we’ll stay at an inn by the port tonight so I can get my things and then we’ll leave the city, I promise,” Rowan let out a soft little giggle as the horse began moving forward and grinned widely. “I’m free,” He whispered, his voice trembling. “I-I’m finally free.”

#whump #medieval whump #my writing #oc #Rowan #Cordelia #freedom!!#horse fear

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tsuki-chibi · 4 years

Text

Swap (Ladynoir July) Day 14: Chat Blanc

Or start from the beginning AO3: Swap

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Lady Noire’s arms were so warm. She held him and petted his head just the way he liked it. He knew she was angry, even if she didn’t even know why she should be angry, and he loved her for it. He loved her so much that it was agony because he knew what was coming next would irrevocably change everything.

He wanted to stay there with her forever.

But he couldn’t.

He needed to know what her response would be to his confession.

So he told her the truth, and then he looked at her face, and he was not at all surprised to see that she was staring at him with an expression of stark horror. But even though he was expecting it, that made it no easier to bear. In that moment, Mister Bug felt like he had failed her and that hurt more than he could put into words. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d turned around and run.

Instead, suddenly, she threw herself at him.

No, not at him.

Mister Bug didn’t even have time to react before the akuma landed on his yoyo.

Immediately, everything seemed to slow. It was like a dark veil dropped over the world; colors and lights and sounds faded, and a chill crept over his skin as all warmth was leeched out of him.

He could see Lady Noire staring at him, and her mouth was moving, but –

“Mister Bug.”

He shuddered.

He had never stopped to really listen to Hawkmoth’s voice before. Maybe if he had, he would’ve recognized it. Or maybe not. Hawkmoth sounded like Gabriel Agreste at his kindest, and that was not a voice that Adrien was often given. No, this was a Gabriel Agreste at his most persuasive, dripping with fake kindness and an empathy he was incapable of feeling.

But his innocent victims wouldn’t know that, not with the underlying power of a miraculous at work.

“You’ve been wronged by those around you,” Hawkmoth murmured, low and soft like he was speaking right in Mister Bug’s ear.

“I’ve been wronged by you,” Mister Bug spat. Or at least, he thought he was speaking out loud. Maybe he was just saying it in his head.

Lady Noire grabbed his shoulders. Her mouth was still moving, but he could barely hear her. She sounded like she was miles away instead of inches away. He wanted to comfort her, but he couldn’t even bring himself to lift his hands to touch her.

“Of course you have,” Hawkmoth agreed, clear as day. “But I’m not the only one, am I? You’ve been ignored all these years. No one ever listens to you, do they? Least of all Ladybug.”

That wasn’t – that wasn’t true, but –

“You could take revenge against those who have wronged you,” Hawkmoth said. “I can give you the power to make everyone notice you.”

It made no sense. He knew that.

Yet that didn’t lessen the seductive nature of those words.

His grief, his anger, his helplessness…

He was tired of feeling this way.

Tired of being the one left behind.

Tired of being the one ordered around.

Tired of being the one no one listened to.

Tired of being the one who never got what he wanted.

Tired of being Adrien Agreste.

“Chat! Please!” Lady Noire was crying. He looked right in her face. Her beautiful face.

And he felt nothing.

The deep pit in his stomach seemed to rise up, making him feel like he was falling.

“Say yes, Mister Bug,” Hawkmoth coaxed. “What I want in return is a pittance compared to what you want. You’ll be the one on top for once. You’ll be able to do whatever you want, whenever you want, to whoever you want. No one will be able to stop you. Your luck will be unparalleled.”

“I won’t become Chat Blanc,” Mister Bug whispered. It was his final defiance.

Even now, he could not do that to his lady.

Hawkmoth laughed: high, cold, and triumphant. The world deepened further. Lady Noire’s tear-filled eyes were swallowed up by a wave of pure, unfathomable darkness.

The only thing that cut through was Hawkmoth’s last words.

“Of course not… Malchance.”

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #hawkmoth #marinette dupain-cheng #ladynoirjuly2020 #ladybug #chat noir #mister bug #lady noire #kwami swap #swap

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pangzi · 4 years

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Otome Gay [Nielan] - Chapter 8

word count: 2536 other chapters: INTRO - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 [AO3]

Meng Yao visibly flinched as he recognised the person in front of him, but quickly regained himself and stood up as straight and confident as he could.

“Good morning, Huaisang”, he greeted. His eyes flickered down to the bags in Huaisang’s hands. “I hope you are doing well”

“I’m doing amazing” His snarl seemed to get to Meng Yao, deeming on him that the punch he received last time wasn’t just the alcohol in Huaisang’s veins speaking.

With a polite smile that clearly hurt, judging from the way tears sprang into his eyes, Meng Yao tried to excuse himself. “That’s wonderful, I’ll get going then”

“You’re not going anywhere” Huaisang growled, grabbing him by the arm tightly as he tried to pass.

Meng Yao sighed and rolled his eyes, his mask of politeness and patience dropping immediately. “Still mad that I told your brother the truth?” Huaisang couldn’t believe this guy. Still this cocky after getting his nose broken.

“The truth?” Huaisang spat. “I would love to know what truths you have told him then.” He cocked his eyebrow, they both knew Huaisang heard most of the conversation Meng Yao had with Mingjue last Friday. Still it was clear the other boy was excited to recall the memories of past week.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I told him” A glimmer in Meng Yao’s eyes, he was gonna say it again anyway so much was clear. “I told him he’ll never be enough for Xichen. That he’s just a brainless jock, that he can never keep him interested for long.” It was clear from the spiteful tone of his voice that he felt nothing but disgust and hate for Mingjue, even though the other man had never done anything to hurt him. “You should’ve seen the look on his face when it dawned on him that I was right! Of course, I also have Xichen to thank for that, defensive brother Xichen is not to be messed with. If only he could’ve seen what a crybaby your brother is, it was pathetic. I never thought a jock would cry so easily!”

It was so hard for Huaisang to stay calm, hands already balled in fists, fingernails digging into his hand palms as he tried so hard not to deck him in the face again. Nobody talked about his brother like that, but he needed him to keep talking, especially with the person he saw walking towards them. “But why?” Huaisang asked, he had an idea as to why Meng Yao would do all this, but he needed to hear him say it himself. “My brother never did anything to you. Wouldn’t it be better to have waited it out, if you were so sure they weren’t right for each other?”

“You’re right, your brother never did anything to me” Meng Yao said indifferently, “but neither did any of the idiots that tried to date Xichen before him, it doesn’t matter! It’s about what they were trying to do”

“And what exactly was he trying to do that was so bad?”

Meng Yao scoffed, almost offended at the question. “He was trying to take Xichen from me”, he barked, “Xichen belongs with me, not some idiot jock like your brother” Huaisang shuddered at the way he said that. At first he just thought Meng Yao was jealous, but now it was clear it wasn’t love he felt for Xichen, he was just obsessed with him, with owning him. “I guess I should thank you for helping me convincing Xichen that your brother was no good. I had tried everything, sadly your brother is so boring that there wasn’t even one rumour about him that could have helped, until you punched me, of course. There was no way Xichen would forgive him for punching me, it was perfect”

“So you’re the reason, Xichen-ge has been single for so long?”, Huaisang asked to confirm, he almost couldn’t believe it that anyone could be that vile, that anyone would be so horrible to someone they cared about.

Meng Yao laughed again. “Of course! How else do you think Xichen would still be single working around a big university like ours, everyone by now knows not to mess with what’s mine.” Huaisang looked at the person who had been standing behind Meng Yao now for a while, they were clearly hurt, but as long as they didn’t make their presence known, Huaisang was going to keep him talking.

“But my brother didn’t…”

“I tried to tell him, but he didn’t give up”, Meng Yao said, rolling his eyes, “I can’t blame him, but it also serves him right that he’s probably crying like a baby right now.”

The next question, Huaisang almost didn’t want to ask, but he had to. He needed to know although he didn’t want to know. “What did you tell Xichen about my brother?”

Another answer Meng Yao seemed happy to share. It was almost as if talking shit about Nie Mingjue was his favourite hobby. “Much of the same things I told your brother too.” The indifferent tone of is voice a stark contrast to how his eyes were shining with pride. “But also that your brother is probably just looking for a pretty boy to fuck and that Xichen was an easy victim. That he probably had several other boys on the side. His close friendship with Zonghui made it easier to make him believe it, especially with how horrible your brother is at dating!” He barked out a laugh. “His attempts were so pathetic, I can’t believe Xichen fell for them so easily. Usually he eats up everything I tell him, my sweet fool”

There was one more thing Huaisang wanted to know, one more thing that, if Huaisang was right about it, was going to be the last drop for the person listening along. “What happened to Wangji on my birthday… Was that you too?”

The look on Meng Yao’s face was enough of an answer for Huaisang, he almost isn’t even surprised after all he had learned today. “The fight was a lucky coincidence”, Meng Yao said, “When I arrived and saw them dancing like that, I had to do something! I was right on time too, as he was already defiling my Xichen with his nasty mouth when I came to rescue him” Rescue him… He really thought he was helping Xichen with his despicable actions.

“A-Yao”, Huaisang had never heard Xichen’s voice like this, not even when he had gotten angry during classes. He sounded furious, dangerous. Meng Yao jumped as he turned, he tried to put his mask back on to deceive Xichen, as if he hadn’t said and therefore Xichen couldn’t have heard it, but he had, he had heard everything.

“Xichen-ge”, Meng Yao greeted, voice trembling but he still tried to sound like his fake, polite, sweet self.

Huaisang took a moment to look at Xichen. He looked just as bad as Mingjue, as if he hadn’t slept in days. Huaisang hated seeing him like this. He was shaking with rage, his expression filled with pain. Huaisang felt horrible for him, but it was necessary right now. Hopefully he had heard enough to break the friendship with Meng Yao, and give his brother another chance.

Meng Yao seemed to realise too, just how angry Xichen was right now. Looking over his shoulder to Huaisang, who just smiled at him coyly. “Oh, right, Xichen is standing behind you”, he said innocently, it gained him an angry glare from the both of them, but he didn’t care. He needed Meng Yao to know that Xichen knew everything and there was no way to get away with this anymore.

“Gege”, Meng Yao pleaded, “It’s not what you think”

“You haven’t manipulated me and the people around me for years?” Xichen asked, voice deep and dangerous with rage.

The way Meng Yao reacted was almost childish, a toddler that had been caught in the act, stomping his feet trying to convince the other they didn’t mean to do it. “You don’t understand, I had no choice”, he sounded so desperate, Huaisang almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “If I hadn’t, they would’ve taken you from me! They would’ve hurt you sooner or later anyway, I never meant to do you any harm, ge. I only wanted the best for you”

Xichen scoffed, it was clear he was done with his excuses already. “I am not a piece of property, Meng Yao”, he said, “I thought you knew me better than someone who drops his friend for a boyfriend, and besides that, only I get to decide what’s best for me.”

This seemed to anger Meng Yao gravely. “If you knew what’s best for you, you would be with me” Meng Yao cried out, “Nobody will ever care for you or love you like I do!”

“You don’t love him, Meng Yao”, Huaisang hadn’t meant to say it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Xichen sighed, turning to him, face softening a bit, tears glinstering in his eyes. “Huaisang, thank you for everything, but this is between me and Meng Yao”

Huaisang felt reluctant to leave, scared that somehow Meng Yao would be able to convince Xichen somehow that what he did wasn’t so bad. But he had to believe that he had crossed way too many lines already for Xichen to ever forgive him. Huaisang nodded and slowly made his way back home.

“Huaisang is right”, he heard Xichen say as he left, “If you treated me like this, you don’t love me. If that’s love, I don’t want it.” Huaisang couldn’t help but smirk at those words, he had nothing to worry about. Whatever would happen next, Meng Yao had lost.

When he arrived home, Mingjue was already waiting for him with the table set.

“What took you so long?” He asked, pouring himself the cup of coffee he had been waiting for since he got home.

“The line was ridiculously long for a Sunday”, Huaisang said. Mingjue turned around, cocking up an eyebrow. Of course he didn’t believe Huaisang, when he messaged him where he was, Huaisang had told him his order was almost up. “And…” Huaisang hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to ruin his brother’s morning, as he seemed to be in quite a good mood today. “I bumped into Meng Yao” Mingjue’s face dropped immediately, as Huaisang had expected. But he had to know. “I gave him a piece of my mind, and Xichen knows what he did now.”

Mingjue sat down across from Huaisang hurriedly. “He does? How, what happened?” Huaisang almost laughed a bit at how much he recognised himself in his brother right now, this was probably what he looked like whenever someone mentioned they had some fresh gossip. Huaisang heated up their breakfast quickly, before telling his brother everything. He thought about leaving Meng Yao’s harsh words out, but he didn’t his brother deserved to know every detail.

When he was done talking, Mingjue just sat in silence, prodding his breakfast with his chopsticks, processing everything he had just heard. “What should I do?” He asked his little brother. “Should I call him? Or do I wait until he calls me?”

Huaisang wished he had kept his mouth shut earlier, so he could’ve stayed and listened to Meng Yao and Xichen’s conversation. So afterwards he could’ve taken the heartbroken man home with him to be comforted, nobody could comfort you like Nie Mingjue, Huaisang knew that firsthand. At this moment he wanted nothing more but to tell his brother to go get his man, hold him tight and tell him whatever he needs to hear. But he knew that right now, Xichen needed his time to process this too. “I think you should wait. He’s hurt right now, he will reach out when he’s ready” Mingjue nodded with a sigh, getting back to actually eating his breakfast. “It’s going to be okay, dage”

It hurt Huaisang, having to go back to school while his brother still hadn’t heard from Xichen. He knew that as soon as he did though, Huaisang would be the first to know, and from then on things had to get better.

By Thursday Mingjue still hadn’t heard from him, and Huaisang started to get worried. Tonight, however, was Huaisang’s art class, and given the chance, he would ask Xichen what was going on. He was slightly nervous on his way there, he hoped Xichen would look slightly better than last time they saw each other, but deep inside he knew he wouldn’t. Xichen was a very sensitive person, it was going to be hard for him to bounce back from this alone.

Huaisang was right, Xichen looked just as tired, if not more tired. Constantly elsewhere with his thoughts during class, clearly trying to keep himself busy giving out lots of feedback and tips so he couldn’t let his mind wander off, but clearly failing. Huaisang felt so bad for him and almost didn’t want to bring up anything that had anything to do with the cause of his pain.

As Xichen ended class, Huaisang took his time putting away his supplies. “Huaisang, do you have some time to talk?” Xichen asked softly. Huaisang immediately became nervous as he agreed to stay. He was so scared he’d say he didn’t want anything to do with his brother anymore.

“How have you been?” He asked as the last student left the classroom.

“Miserable”, Xichen huffed. “I can’t believe I let him manipulate me like that for so long…”

Huaisang reached out and softly squeezed his arm to comfort him. “You couldn’t have known, he was too good of an actor to ever slip up in front of you”

He received a soft smile. “Do you think your brother will forgive me?” Xichen asked carefully.

The question took Huaisang by surprise. “Without a doubt, Xichen-ge”, Huaisang answered, “why wouldn’t he?”

“I was so unreasonable”, Xichen sniffled, he was on the verge of crying and Huaisang didn’t know what to do. “I accused him of something he didn’t do, ignored him, refused to hear him out… I don’t deserve someone as wonderful as him, especially not after all this!” He wiped away the first tears that rolled down his cheeks quickly. “Meng Yao told him all those horrible things because of me. It’s all my fault”

Huaisang reached out again, and Xichen slowly accepted his hug. “It’s not your fault at all”, Huaisang sussed him, “It’s Meng Yao’s fault, none of this is on you. My dage knows that too” Xichen pulled back, wiping away more tears. “Reach out to him when you’re ready, he’s waiting, I promise you. He wants nothing more than to have you by his side, Xichen”

Xichen only ended up crying harder as he nodded. “Thank you, Huaisang”

With one last embrace, Huaisang slowly made his way out of the room. “Xichen”, he said right before leaving, “You do deserve someone as wonderful as my brother. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more perfect for each other as you and my brother”

“I will reach out to him soon”, Xichen promised.

#otome gay #nielan #nie mingjue #lan xichen #mirf writes #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #cql #i know i said this was gonna be the last chapter #i changed my mind #kljkjfdkgd

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thegreenfairy13 · 4 years

Text

No Country For Heroes (Part 9)

Read the full story here.

Notes: Yes, you have seen this post before! But as @whomerlockwood pointed out, the ending of my fic came too sudden so I took it down.Sorry for the resulting inconvenience. But then I love writing this story so much I’m actually glad I can keep working on it (so there will be one or two more chapters after this).

Plot: the GCPD turns Jim in for Oswald’s protection. He takes the opportunity to bend the detective to his will. Features torture, mind control and dub con. Originally written for the prompt ‘beg’ by the wonderful @justsimplymeagain who always encourages me <3! Also, a special thanks to @one-eyed-bossman as well!

And Finally the 9th chapter:

Oswald doesn’t react the way Jim expects him to. He was prepared for rage, violence, not a moment of quiet consideration. The mobster smirks, almost sadly, before sitting down next to the former cop.

“James?” he asks softly while reaching for his hand. Jim wants to jerk away from his touch but once he feels those long fingers wrapped around him, he goes limp. He thinks he should feel fear and desperation - he only feels numb and docile. Jim’s aware of his bravado being nothing more than a fleeting spark at this point. There’s not much fight left in this weakened body, or in his exhausted mind. His prior words, though spoken with vigor, lack conviction. Oswald probably knows, too.

The Penguin can hardly hide the victorious little gleam in his eyes. It would be easy for him to overpower Jim, to hurt him for his rashness.

“Naked and humiliated,” Oswald states, almost reverently, as he presses his other hand over Jim’s heart. His touch feels hot on his skin, and the detective wonders why it doesn’t hurt. “I have to admit, I admire you,” he whispers. “You’re barely hanging on, but there’s still so much anger in you.” Leaning in, he kisses Jim’s knuckles.

The blonde stiffens, breath caught in his throat.

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” he carries on. “To fight until your last breath, remain proud and strong even when you’re already down, broken, and bleeding.”

Jim grits his teeth, can’t contain the angry snarl about to escape his mouth.

The mobster is unfazed though, only studies him with a mildly bemused expression.

“Let me go!” he hisses when Oswald’s hold tightens. He’s so sick of their dance, yet he can’t seem to stop it. Not in the past, not now. Cause this is what they have been doing for years, isn’t it? Getting close while desperately trying to get away from each other. At least it is was Jim has been doing.

The smaller man shakes his head solemnly, purses his lips. “And then what?” he asks back. “The moment you’d walk outta here, they’d put a bullet in your head,” he states, shuddering in disgust. “They made you responsible for the mess we’re in,” he reminds Jim, smiling compassionately. It sounds wrong though, as if he was mocking the cop.

Jim finally pulls his hand free, only to regret it immediately. Without the distraction of Oswald’s touch, he can’t keep his fingers from trembling. He raises his hands, lets them fall back into his lap. “Then let them,” he whispers, barely audible.

Closing his eyes, the Penguin stretches beside him languidly. “I should have known breaking you would be different,” he mutters. “It’s such a sweet task,” he adds, smiling innocently. Lazily, he covers his eyes with one arm, gets comfortable. The way he acts doesn’t indicate Jim only moments ago threatened to take him down. If there was truly some fight left in Gotham’s knight, he’d choke the life out of the gangster. Yet even now, he can’t. The thought doesn’t cross his mind even though it would be the most reasonable thing to do. If he’d murder his torturer, the worst that would happen would be his own death.

Instead, he mulls Oswald’s words over and over in his head, tries to decipher their meaning. Turning his head, he stares down at the Penguin’s unfazed form. He can barely get his words out as the panic slowly catches up with his brain.

Everything up until know only served to stall for time. Once the mobster gets up, once he pulls him from the room and across the hallway, he’ll be chanceless, give in, become Oswald’s puppet, his zombie - of that he’s certain.

“Why aren’t you granting me the mercy you gave this other man?” he blurts out. “One blow and it was all done,” he chokes out, thinking about the blood coating the floor only mere minutes ago.

Oswald removes his arm from his eyes and sits up. Biting his lips, he reaches out. Cupping Jim’s face between his palms he asks, “How could you ever ask me to murder you? You of all people?” The Penguin blinks back tears as he speaks, his voice is so hoarse he can hardly get his words out.

“But,” Jim protests, and at last, the long-awaited slap paints his cheeks red.

“But how dare you comparing yourself to this worthless thug!” Oswald hollers, all but jumping from the bed.

Frantically, he starts pacing the room, dragging his bad leg behind him, even pulling at his perfectly-styled hair - it’s something Jim has never seen him do before.

Spinning on his heels, he attacks, pins Jim down once more with his entire weight, eyes glistening feverishly. It takes him almost no effort to overpower the other man.

Taking a moment, he listens to the cop’s frantic heartbeat before he starts laughing. It’s a crazed sound, almost maniacal, animalistic. It subsides, eventually, until it’s nothing more but a slight sob.

“I’d hate to put you through another round,” he finally confesses. “We’re close, so close,” he gushes. “If you’d only see !”

“See what?” Jim snaps back, trying fruitlessly to fend off the mobster restraining him.

“What you really want !” Oswald screams, clearly exasperated. “Of all the things I showed you, what did you learn? What did you see?”

Jim struggles in the gangster’s unyielding grasp, bucks against the weight holding him down, yet achieves nothing. He’s powerless beneath the murderer, unable to help himself.

“Let me go!” Jim tries again. “Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.” He barely registers the moisture coating his face.

“And then what?” Oswald challenges, not relaxing his grip. “Then what? My death? Your death? Leave Gotham and live a normal life with a family of your own? Two kids and picket-fence? What, James, what?”

The cops stills, lets his head fall back against the pillows. Panting heavily, he stares into two orbs of green. Oswald looks as broken as he feels.

“You want freedom,” he reminds him. “But what would you do with it?” he asks, emphasizing his point by patting Jim’s nose lightly.

Jim snaps.

It’s this tiny bit of hope that Oswald keeps wielding in front of his nose, like a carrot, that infuriates him, fills his heart with rage. “Kill you!” he spits. “Put a bullet in your head, put a bullet in anyone’s head who deserves it, who pushed this city to the brink of destruction, who destroyed the souls and hearts of people like Barbara, and Lee, and...” his voice breaks off as he hears himself speak it out loud, horrified by the realization how badly he wants it, to just let go, to choke the life out of everyone who keeps dragging this city down with them, who keeps maiming and killing the innocent and the guilty and everyone in between. Jim wants this to end, to start all over, to be who he used to be.

Oswald, in turn, lets go of him. “And?” he inquires softly.

Jim inhales through his nose, tries to get his heartbeat under control. He’s back under Tetch’s spell, is fighting against this urge to simply destroy the madness that has befallen everyone around him, to just run off with nothing but a loaded gun and his determination.

He can’t let Oswald have this victory, can’t allow for him to set his inner demons free. He must not succeed where Tech failed.

“But I won’t,” Jim finishes stubbornly.

“But how else could you save this city?” the Penguin presses. Judging by the way he looks at Jim, he thinks Oswald knows how badly he just wants to give in. The blonde huffs out a laugh. Of course, he knows. He had been in his head.

The pressure on his chest increases when he doesn’t answer. Jim opens and closes his mouth, tries gasping for air, but it’s to no avail. Everything hurts and he’s about to lose his sanity, the part that ultimately defines James Gordon.

Leaning in, Oswald lovingly brushes a strand of sweat-sodden hair from his forehead. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to just let go?” he whispers. “To do what I’m doing? This man, this thug... didn’t I merely serve justice when killing him for suggesting he rape you?”

Oswald’s shoulders sag and finally, he lets go off Jim. “You gave your all to make Gotham a better place, but where did it lead you? The moment you had your pathetic little victories, you would go and betray me, time and time and time again…”

“But you always knew that!” Jim interrupts frantically. “You always knew how I’d act, what I’d do!” he hollers. His head is swimming, hurting. They had this conversation before, hadn’t they? “You knew me,” Jim challenges, pressing his fist against his eye-sockets. The light is blinding once the pain is back, once everything starts throbbing anew. “You knew I’d try being good whenever I had the chance, to abide by the law.” His voice breaks off when the headache overtakes every rational thought.”

“Blaming the victim,” Oswald tzks. Pursing his lips, he agrees, though. “That’s right, I know you,” he admits bitterly. “That’s why I knew I could do this ,” he confesses softly.

Jim’s head snaps up at those words. Belatedly, he realizes how in everything the mobster says and does since Jim arrived, there’s a clue hidden, a hint he can’t grasp.

Extending his arms, Oswald gestures at both of them. “It took me a while to understand it. And when you shot me, I got so angry.” His voice cracks slightly. Leaning over, he grabs a fistful of the blond’s hair. Tilting Jim’s head back, he murmurs, “It took me a while to understand,” he grouses. “ I’m truly your exception, ain’t I? You’d never go for my blood, not really, would you?” he urges and Jim slumps again.

“Why state the obvious?” he snaps back, tilting his chin defiantly, even when he’s shaking with fear.

“Why do you want to stop me?” Oswald presses.

He reaches for Jim, shakes him slightly, before climbing back into his lap as if he belonged there. Despite himself, Jim catches his slender waist, presses him close. One hand tangled in the criminal’s hair, he starts rocking him as if he was truly his lover.

If this warmth, this touch right here will be the last display of affection he’ll ever receive, he’ll soak it up. Besides, it was true. He does love, or maybe did love, Oswald. His lenience with the gangster had always been controlled by his emotions, by a desire to rather see him free than bound. Or by utter madness.

He is, after all, everything that is wrong with this city. He’s greedy, selfish, violent, ruthless. But he’s also driven, full of determination, and powerful. Jim should have shot him as Harvey commanded him to do so. Yet, he can’t even hurt him now. It’s ridiculous.

Jim looks up, takes in the slender frame, the pointed nose, those sharp eyes. Oswald is beautiful. And he tore Jim apart, violated him in ways he can’t even begin to comprehend. The cop doesn’t know why he needs to haul him into a brutal kiss, only registers what he’s doing when he tastes copper. It’s his time now, to draw blood from the monstrous man that clings to him, that seemingly fragile being.

Jim thinks again how he should break his delicate neck now, end this misery, save himself and the city all the pain the Penguin is inevitably about to bring down upon them.

“You’ll lose your empire again,” Jim threatens between kisses. Oswald merely shrugs, wraps his arms around him like a vice in response. “Comes and goes,” he states. “I always get it back, eventually.”

Jim accepts the statement easily, it’s true. Maybe not even death could stop him, not in a city like this. Prison definitely couldn’t. His hold on the other man tightens.

“What do you really want?” Oswald asks him again, and Jim stills, stops working on the buttons separating him from the warmth and touch he craves in his wrecked state of mind. He wants him gone from power so much, and all the others like him. And he just wants him , too.

“I should kill you,” he pants, even as he slides the belt from his waist. Oswald nods in agreement.

Oswald chuckles in response. “The fire,” he states, biting his lip flirtatiously. Oswald hooks his arms around Jim’s waist, pulling him easily with him. “You truly can’t stop poking the bear, can you?” he asks appreciatively.

Belatedly, Jim realizes how he’s being maneuvered towards the hallway again.

“You should put something on,” the Penguin notes, winking seductively when Jim finally realizes that he’s still naked. The cop blushes.

“There’s really nothing to be ashamed about,” Oswald laughs as he traces the blonde's perfectly defined abs. “I’d just rather keep you to myself,” he adds, tilting his head.

Leaning back against the door, he offers his neck for Jim to press a kiss against his jugular. “It’s such a shame,” he sighs. “Shame, shame, shame,” he mumbles while running his fingers through Jim’s hair. In his insanity, the cop thinks to indulge Oswad’s desires might save him after all, tries forgetting what is at stake.

Oswald smiles affectionately at him. “How come I can have you but will never be able to keep you?”

Pulling back, the cop looks down at the other man. “Is this one of Edward’s riddles?” he wonders out loud before his brain catches up with him again and the fear slams back into his body with the force of a freight train.

“But I do love you,” Jim tries to bargain.

“I know,” Oswald replies as he wraps his arms around Jim once more. “But we both know that would never be enough, don’t we?” Drawing patterns into his skin, Oswald pulls him against the door. “What is that worth if we can never be together?” he asks when Jim starts mutely crying against his shoulder.

His legs give out beneath him. Bonelessly, he slides down to the floor until he’s at the Penguin’s feet. All Jim can focus on is a pair of shiny shoes. Reaching for Oswald’s ankles, he starts sobbing without restraint. “Please don’t,” he begs, knowing full well how futile it is.

“I can’t turn back now,” Oswald replies, almost apologetically. “Just once more,” he consoles, patting Jim’s head. “And the pain will stop and you’ll have everything you could have ever wish for,” he vows.

This time, Jim follows him down the hallway without kicking and screaming.

#gobblepot #fanfiction #Jim Gordon #Oswald Cobblepot

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kaetastic · 4 years

Text

Testing Him To His Limits

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: Bucky was just enjoying the sun, until his phone beeped of a message. If only he hadn’t opened it.

word count: 3.6k

warning: nsfw, fingering, language, no metal arm!bucky

note: inspired by this video on youtube! I’m not exactly sure if this is a Modern AU, I still have yet to grip concept on the spectrum lmao. But technically, they are not The Avengers in this. Also, do grills even pop stuff?? Ion no, I never griled lmao. This is a chaotic, messy writing lol.

Despite the guaranteed coverage of the umbrella, Bucky could feel his body fry alive under the scorching heat of the sun. The wavering waves plastered all over his skin as if it was like the surface of a heated desert. Quivering lines danced over his bare chest. Even though his chest was covered by a smeared layer of glistening sweat that twinkled a smile with every churn of his muscle, he didn’t bother to wipe it off. Maybe it was due to the fact that the heat had made it unbearable for him to place a foot on the burning ground (unfortunately for him, he had to find out the pain after scrambling without a sandal on when he wanted to grab a quick sip) or maybe he was just lazy. Bucky opted to believe the other reason.

In the heat (with restricted ability to step off the seat), Bucky couldn’t help but let his mind wander off as it took a leisurely stroll to random thoughts and topics. He questioned why Tony had decided to choose the day it had peaked the temperature of the sun. The week had swum over a steady crest. It was somewhat tolerable to take a walk in the beginning of the week. Now? Now, Bucky was contemplating if he was either nudged out of a plastic bag, straight from the freezer; dunked into the sizzling fryer, or he was the melting ice cream that flew onto the fiery red lava port of a fair near the ocean. It was as if mother nature had been surprised by a wrestling match in her gut.

But, then again, the host had reassured that no one would pass out. Which might’ve been the reason for the heightened concern for the moment where someone who splay against the burning ground. No one had bothered about someone else passing out until Tony had brought it up. However, there was no need to worry as they were blessed to be in the presence of a sophisticated doctor, Bruce Banner. And no, it was not at all reassuring as it literally felt like their feet were being sizzled alive.

The muscles and tendons that cladded around Bucky’s wavering bones were at the end of a merciless stick of heat. It somehow liquified into a puddle of nothing but... meat. Pushing the hideous (and shuddering) visualization to the side, he inquired a question he knew he wouldn’t have an answer to: Why had he been dunked by a bucket of sweat, his soles still bubbling of unbearable bumps that pinched pain from his regrettable decision where he was put at a vulnerable spot... while his friends had been sauntering on the ground? Were the ground not fired enough to melt their foam sandals? Not even their feet, one of his closest friend, Steve Rogers, paced around the pool with only a teasing amount of sweat painted across his forehead. Bucky had to sigh in defeat, though, the man had been consuming cans upon cans. All iced and cold. Oh, how suffocating it felt to sit on the chair.

With only his blue swimming trunks on, he fell into the captivating imagination of him walking over the frying pan to snatch a drink for himself. Bucky could only take a glance at the icebox that poked bobbling heads of aluminium cans of refreshing flavours whenever the lid was opened for him to take a faint glance. The man was sure he had seen a teaser of an iced coffee somewhere. Although, he feared it might’ve been consumed by a somewhat... hyperactive friend. Hands tucked behind his head, Bucky’s fingers were engulfed in the sticky liquid. It weaved as irritating strings that wouldn’t fly off with every swat of his hand. Bucky’s hands were accustomed to the beads of sweat exasperating out of his skin while the air was sizzling. Not much different from pouring oil onto a pan that was ready to exert its anger on.

Chattering from randomly wheeled through topics which had been on a range from an accidental shift of work hours to high school crushes, it was followed by strings of laughter. The noise trickled into the ears of the only man who had found himself in peace without any interaction. Was peace even the right word? Not too long ago he wished he would jump into the pool for a quick cool off (after a few minutes of adapting to the scorching medium, he was sure the water would be just warm- not burning), but then he remembered he had no energy and will to do so. Bucky wished someone pushed him into the pool without having his skin graze over the hellfire-like ground. Another surge of roaring laughter erupted from the small crowd. It was most likely Tony cracking one of those past eggs before the attention had been directed to the man whose face was smeared over with crimson red paint. It was Steve.

Although Bucky had been pulled into some conversations, most of them had ended quite abruptly. One of them had been from the forgotten grill that had been sizzling, popping chunks of burnt meat into the covered lid. At least Thor had the decency to shut it. Or else it would’ve resulted in parkour of avoiding the bouncing hot pieces from the erupting volcano. Despite the chatting had been so quick, he forgot what they were even talking about. He blamed it on the weather, and the scorching temperature, which caused his thoughts to be evaporated into the unbearable heat.

Bucky tried his hardest to enjoy the session of the invisible breeze of wind in the hot air (there was only a teasing amount of appearances from the natural cooling method). Well, he was trying his best to see the silver lining of the situation. After all, it was he who had dragged his girl to go to the gathering. There was nothing worse than having to admit your fault when you had been so determined and persistent on pursuing a belief. Oh, the last thing Bucky would do was give that satisfactory to Y/N; even though, she could practically see through his tears.

Freshly peeled can of soda swirled into his nose, the scent of a too concentrated solution of grape rammed the wall of his lungs. It clashed into the delicately layered muscles, no different to that of poison. Less than a centilitre of poison would be enough to yank the soul of the victim before they could even comprehend it was their last day. To see the same effects, one would have to drink around half a dozen of the sodas that had been hovering in front of the resting (would it be called resting if he was dying inside?).

Despite the obvious taste of chemicals that would linger on ones’ tongue for the whole day even though they had been scrubbing the bristles of their toothbrush on the flap of muscle with immense force, the brand had still insisted on the ‘No artificials’ plastered on their metal cans. The enormous label that was the size of the can’s name was plastered at the top in bright yellow, the outline had been bubbly with a faint shadow that had exposed the grainy pixels. What a way to catch attention.

His eyelids fluttered open as jumping droplets of the soda pierced onto his face. No different to that of popcorns springing out from the machine. Standing beside the chair was Sam, who offered the drink to Bucky. Despite Bucky squinting through his nearly closed eyelids, he could tell that Sam was not at all affected by said-weather.

There Bucky was, having a courtroom debate in his head to the burning temperature, while his friend had been at the merciful end. There were evaporating beads of sweat that trickled down the sides of his face, nothing a swipe from his hand cannot remove. Even though Bucky was sauntering down the lane of jealousy, he was tugged onto a screeching halt in realization. A can that had been freshly plucked out from the icebox was in Sam’s hand. Then, all that glittered in the resting man’s eyes were sparkles of gold as if he had seen his guardian angel who had flown down to save him. His saviour. Wings would look good on Sam.

After mumbling thanks under his breath that came out more of a raspy noise of cheese being grated; he grabbed the can, Sam made a place on the neighbouring chair that was vacant for anyone to use, “Man, Steve’s like a six-year-old who's banned from sugar.” Even though Sam’s eyes were behind the shadowy glasses, Bucky could guess the expression he wore. Bucky chuckled at the sight of his blond friend chugging cans after cans as if it was a competition.

There was no doubt that Steve was in such a state because he had somehow slipped one sip down his throat, which was his first mistake. A mistake that would usually be meticulously watched over by Steve’s other half, Peggy. The woman was the friend in the friend group who sent health benefits of herbs and other green things (unfortunately, not Shrek) to the group chat at two in the morning. Which only left questions and speculations to linger in the air to what she was even doing awake at such times. Maybe it was when Tony had chided for Peggy to let loose of the rope she twirled around the man. Peggy had been persistent that she was loose. So, one thing led to another; the man was now on his third can. Peggy had to watch with her eyes twitching at the hyperactive man. His bloodstreams probably had enough sugar to coat the walls of his blood vessels.

“He’s gonna be a handful for Peggy. Nothing she can’t handle.” The two chuckled at Bucky’s words. It was true, Peggy barely had problem with... taming Steve. They were like a perfect piece of a puzzle, their sides of the parts completed one another. The last time a situation was like so, Steve had been enticed by a sugary pink stick that Tony had lying around, sprawled on his kitchen counter. Once again, one thing led to another, and Steve somehow ended up pounding on his chest as if a gorilla on a table.

Sam hummed, muscles dancing against the ticklish bumps on the chair, “He’s on a leash, I tell you.” Eyes shut tight, Sam practically melted into the seat. Maybe it was from the heat, but as Bucky brushed his eyes over the relaxing figure, he knew Sam found solace in the air. The chilly liquid crawled down his throat.

The silence from the chilling man had only answered to his suspicion that Sam was in fact, fast asleep. The corners of his lips curled up at the sight of the man who was infamous for never finding the time to relax. Sam associated himself with parties; when the man’s mindset had set onto the things that needed to be done on his desk, it was difficult to stir him away from the focus. Bucky recalled the time he had stumbled on Sam who had splayed out on his office floor since the man had pushed himself to complete the batch of work. He still remembered the worry he had at the sight. The only evidence that the man was not dead but just slumbering was the presence of his pulse thrumming.

Shifting his body back to his previous state, Bucky could feel the prickling of kisses from the sun on his hairs. Although he was enjoying the dream of returning back home, all his work completed, waiting for him on the desk, whoever watched over him disliked the idea. The sheets he would have to go through would consume nearly his whole day, if he was unlucky, it would bite off a chunk from his weekend. Oh, no. The weekend was his only method of escape to ignore the existence of work. A vibration echoed from his phone, shaking an earthquake through the glass table. The noise trickled into his ears, shattering the glowing imagination that was too good to be true.

The groaning from the device pierced through the table once again, calling out for its owner, “Hey, Buck, think you could... run a little errand for me?” Before he had the chance to flip the phone to glance at the notification, Bruce stood in front of the burning source of light, shielding Bucky’s blinded eyes. The sneaky ray of light bounced off the umbrella. Bucky quirked an eyebrow, confused to the vague sentence.

“Errand?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What happened to your new secretary?” Bruce let out a sheepish chuckle, fingers scratching the nape of his neck as he replayed the memory which he now wished he could forget.

“Yeah, about that, I accidentally gave her a leave...” A chuckle fell off the resting man’s face, Bucky shook his head in disbelief. Oh, Bruce. Always expect the unexpected with the man. There had been countless of times Bruce had a word slip off his tongue, most of them were nice. Too nice. So, it didn’t shock Bucky that the man had somehow allowed his new secretary to take some time off. Never will they forget the time they went to a cafe, and Bruce somehow ended up buying a dozen coffees. The doctor blamed it on the enticing offer, one he couldn’t pass off. But the team knew. They knew the cashier cast a spell on him.

“Sure, what’dya need?”

A hand clasped onto Bruce’s shoulders, causing the man to hiss a wince through the cracks of his teeth, “Why’d you run away like that?” Rising from the back, a shadowy figure soon stood next to Bruce. Thor’s booming voice banged into their ears in surges of boisterous pitches. It was a habit the man had, a little quirk, he did. Thor’s way of talking was screaming; although, he had denied being that loud, “You wanna ask Bucky to do it?”

“Do what?” Bucky stared at the two, eyes darting, lost from the lack of context.

“Yes! I do!” Bruce grumbled back, annoyed that Thor had scurried from the circle he was just in, to follow the man. All Bruce wanted to do was mumble the words in secret, away from the people that might whisper his words to other ears. The two fell into bickering. Bruce was prominently shorter than the towering figure of Thor, a reason to why Bruce’s neck would be needed gentle massages later on.

Bucky grabbed his phone, he leaned back with a huff. If the man wasn’t confused already, he had no clue why his girlfriend who sat on the other side of the pool had texted him. Their eyes met. Bucky didn’t know how to react when he saw her shoot a coquettish smirk into his perplexed eyes. Ardent thumbs pressed the password before he clicked on the messaging app.

Then, his heart dropped out of his ass.

The photo of his girl in fiery red lingerie struck a chord in him. Well, snipped away his connection to reality as he tried to digest the picture. It was mostly indulging in the way her skin filled up the brassiere and the garter. Not to forget the accompanying message. Need your fingers in me, “Right, Bucky?”

Bucky didn’t know how fast it took him to switch off his phone, “Huh?”

Thor let out a loud cackle, no different to that of a cracking thunder that zapped the innocent field. Bruce walked away in defeat, shoulders curled down. Noticing the confusion in Bucky’s eyes, Thor chided, “I said some people don’t even listen to what Bruce say. You proved my point.”

The man didn’t have the chance to say anything since Thor paced away. Then, everything flipped.

“Holy shit!” Tony yelled out, his neck veins so close to the surface, it nearly burst the vessel. Without having to say anything, everyone did their part. “Steve! Stop taking so many tissues! I fucking pay for those as a matter of fact! Y/N, could you grab a roll of tissue paper? It’s in the store!”

Pulling her eyes away from her screen, the device was nearly thrown into the body of water at the abrupt change of events. The chaotic mess of shuffling bodies with sheets of ripped tissue papers in their hands that sprinted left and right pierced into her head. What a day for relaxing. Even though she was confused to the commotion, she didn’t need to ask as her eyes brought upon the answer. The bits of meat that had splattered from its main chunk haphazardly pierced the ground, splattering against the floor as if an uncontrollable firearm. Poor burgers.

The woman nodded, sprinting into the house, inching away from the furious grill to avoid being the canvas for its splashes of paint. With her heart thrumming, her feet stomping the ground echoed through the long hallways of the home. Sticking to shuffle in the middle as the path had been blocked by large decorations of lavish vases that sat at her waists’ height, she made sure nothing had been damaged. Y/N was pulled to a screech at the door that resided at the end of the hallway. Practically bursting into the room, she didn’t waste time to nudge everything off the shelves that wasn’t what she needed. The name of the object chanted in her head, echoing as if to remind herself. Everything else was of no use. If her head was a movie theatre and all the seats were take, the audience was probably melting. There was no sight of the needed roll. Her heart sang the last song she would ever hear before it was cut short by the slamming of a door.

“Bucky?” Although she was narrowing her eyes at the figure of the man who leaned on the metal shelves, his eyes amused by her franticness, her attention was averted back to the treasure hunting. Y/N nudged the endless bottles of shampoo aside, not scoring a point of care. She wasn’t sure if it was all for Pepper or Tony. The deep cracks she had meandered through the once organized storeroom didn’t give a sign of the roll. “Not now. I need to find tissues.”

Her words fell on his deaf ears as he persistently rubbed his body into her back. Despite her efforts to shimmy away from him, it seemed the space between the two closed, inching until she could feel a hardness prodding her thigh. A gasp echoed into the air, “You feel that?”

“Bucky! I need to find the tissues.” Y/N managed to breathe out, the words obstructed her throat.

“Then find it,” Bucky’s voice was low, deep as the puffs from his lips caressed her exposed skin. There was barely anything her skimpy bikini could cover. With determination, she continued, ignoring the prominent presence. “Though, I wouldn’t bother. Thor just used a fire extinguisher.”

Even though she wanted to snap her back straight from the news, Bucky’s rigid body blocked her way, “I said find it,” Without warning her, his warm digit nudges her panties aside, dipping into her. A breathy moan trickled into the tranquil air which Y/N tried her best to stifle. There wasn’t any use in pressing her lips together, the way his fingers knew how to rotate her gear had only sent off something in her. Y/N didn’t even dare to cover her mouth with her hand as she knew if she removed the leverage, she would’ve collapsed into the ground. “Sending me photos in public.” Bucky chuckled, not sending the same emotion of amusement to the brutal pace he had pumped his fingers.

He didn’t even bother to tease, pressing his thumb to her sensitive clit, circling roughly. The shelves shake, little bits falling off the surface (thankfully, they were only crumpled up plastic bags). Y/N barely had time to whine about him removing his fingers as she spun around, her lips locking into his, “Bucky...”

The man hummed, his fingers not wasting time to plunge into her, “Wanted my finger. Take it.”

It didn’t take long for Bucky to relish the sight of her head thrown back, chest heaving in surges of breathing. Tongue swirling around the liquid, he hummed at the familiar taste. Y/N had told hold herself back from rolling her eyes.

“What took you so long?” Tony’s eyes darted towards the woman who he had trusted the task of fetching the roll of tissues from the store. The conversation they were having died down, their focus now set onto the exiting figure. Y/N hummed as she practically threw the object onto the wooden table, the legs of the victimized surface quivered. Shivers of the earthquake wavered through the metal rods causing the metal to sing in a falsetto tone as it clashes into its neighbouring accompanies, nearly causing the other occupants of the table to slide off.

“Couldn’t find it.” The words brushed her lips, jumping into the ears of her friends. While she had sauntered off to lay back down on her previous spot, she didn’t notice that everybody’s neck craned to the following body. Fingers weaved through the locks of his hair, Bucky mussed the already messy bundle.

“What?” He couldn’t help himself. The corners of his lips curled up in satisfaction that they had seen the marking he had left on Y/N. Too caught up in the bliss moment, she hadn’t even realized he had left a piece of himself on her neck. The owner of the house threw the utensil on the floor with a huff. Reminder: Don’t invite Bucky and Y/N over.

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vfdbaudelairefile13 · 4 years

Text

Misery Loves Company Part 2

Chapter Eighteen:

The One With The Nightmare

Violet and Klaus didn’t like that Count Olaf had once again shown up in their lives in pursuit of their inheritance and their lives but they will admit some time during dinner both siblings realized that it was better when Olaf was in front of them because that means he wasn’t hurting Duncan, Isadora, or Sunny.

So when it was finally late enough where Mrs. Squalor started walking Gunther to the door, Violet and Klaus’ face fell with worry as the villain’s bid them a goodnight promising Esme, and them, that he’ll be back first thing tomorrow. Violet wanted to chase after him maybe he’d lead her to where her friends and baby sister were hidden. But there was that nagging fear that if he found out she was following him and that she was alone because there would be no way in hell that she’d bring Klaus with her, she didn’t want to imagine the things he would do. Klaus wanted to chase after him yelling help someone help! This man is Count Olaf! He has my friends and baby sister! But he feared Olaf would merely get out of that as he did with every other ridiculous disguise he donned. So he stood there next to Violet watching worriedly as his worst nightmare left his apartment to possibly go hurt his friends and or baby sister.

After locking her apartment door, Esme turned towards Violet and Klaus and bid them goodnight. As she walked passed them, she called out. “If you are going to stay up, please try not to make any noise. A powerful woman like myself needs her beauty sleep.”

Violet and Klaus looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders. Jerome slowly followed behind his wife.

“Jerome?” Klaus called out.

“Yeah, Klaus?”

“Do you guys have a library? I noticed that during the tour we skipped a lot of rooms and…” He began.

Jerome frowned. “Unfortunately, no. Books have been out for a rather long time.’ He watched as Klaus responded with a frown. “But tell you what, tomorrow I’ll take you and Violet into town. We can go shopping and have a good time. Get your mind off of...well, you know.”

Violet smiled at Jerome in response as she looked over at Klaus, who still looked rather sad. He gave Jerome a quick and small smile. Jerome walked with the children to help them navigate their bedrooms. Once they reached their rooms, Jerome bid them goodnight and walked down the hall towards his room.

“Don’t worry,” Violet told Klaus.

“How do you expect me not to worry?”

“We are going to save them,”

“How?”

“I’m still trying to figure that part out,” Violet admitted.

“So in other words, we have nothing,” Klaus cried.

Violet looked away from Klaus. “Well...there is one thing...but it’s more of a last resort thing,” she muttered.

“What?” Klaus asked looking at his sister.

“...that’s top-secret,” Violet said. “It doesn’t concern you.”

‘Yes, it does,”

“No, it really doesn’t,”

‘What is the ‘last resort”?” he asked her.

She turned her head not wanting to face him. “Well, you heard him,” she said shuddering. “He’s willing to trade me for Sunny and one of the Quagmires,”

Klaus’ eyes widened. “Are you crazy!?” he yelled. “We aren’t trading your life for theirs,”

“Why not?”

“Because this isn’t a game, Violet. This is serious business. Olaf is a madman who is determined to destroy us,” he reminded her. “And that has a different meaning for each of us if you know what I mean,”

Violet shuddered to indicate to Klaus that she did understand what he meant. She frowned. “Isn’t it selfish of me though?” she asked.

“How would it…”

“Two of them will be given their freedom for mine,” Violet said. “I’m not worth two people’s freedoms,”

“Violet, stop this nonsense,” Klaus hissed. ‘We’re not trading you for them. Besides who’s to say he’ll keep his end of the deal? He’d probably still keep all of them and take me in the process. You would be surrendering for nothing,”

“He...wouldn’t do that….would he?”

“Oh, he would, Vi. Out of the five of us, you’re the one who poses a threat to him. It must be the Snicket gene,” Klaus commented.

“Or the Baudelaire gene...did you see yourself back there when he first showed his face?” she reminded Klaus. “I thought you were going to kill him,”

“I wanted to,” Klaus admitted. “But he may be the only person alive who knows where they are,”

“That’s why tomorrow, we have to search the neighborhood for abandoned buildings or some kind of hiding place that a kidnapper would use to hide his victims,” Violet said. “Now I don’t know about you but touring this penthouse tired me out. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She gave her brother a quick hug and then disappeared into her room closing her door behind her. Klaus looked worriedly at her door before turning into his own.

________________________________________________________

Sunny was currently crawling around the dark cage, wailing about her current situation and worried about her older siblings who could already be in the bastard’s clutches. Duncan and Isadora sighed as they leaned their backs on the steel bars of the cage. Duncan grabbed Sunny and set her on each of their laps. Sunny looked up at them and even though she couldn’t see them in the darkness she knew that they were looking back down at her with hopeful smiles on their faces.

“Violet…” Sunny whimpered. “Klaus…”

“It’s okay, Sunny,’ Duncan tried to reassure.

“Duncan’s right, Violet and Klaus are going to save us,” Isadora tried to reassure.

Sunny nodded her head slowly but continued to cry. Sunny was immensely worried about her brother and her newly found older half-sister. She saw how Olaf look at Isadora, although she didn’t fully understand the implications, she knew it was nothing good. Especially since Duncan and Klaus get super mad and defensive whenever Olaf touches Violet or Isadora. So she was worried about Violet even if she didn’t fully understand why she should be worried about her sister. She was also entirely worried about her older brother. Sunny didn’t understand inheritance law seeing that she was a toddler in unfortunate circumstances, but she did understand that Olaf only needs one Baudelaire alive, so if he has Sunny what did that mean for Klaus? And since Violet is Beatrice’s daughter, once he catches Violet what did that mean for Sunny? These two questions continued to repeat themselves in her mind.

Her thoughts were put to a halt as she could hear someone approaching. Duncan and Isadora could hear the entrance to wherever the fuck they are open. They both shuffled to their feet. Duncan quickly scooping up Sunny in his arms. Isadora pulled her brother to the middle of the cage, she hoped that if they weren’t near the outside of the cage, Olaf would have a difficult time reaching in here and grabbing one of them.

They could hear his footsteps circling the outside of the cage. “Oh, come on, orphans. I’m not that bad, am I?”

The children didn’t answer him, they stayed huddled together.

“I’m in an extremely good mood and do you three want to know why?”

Sunny’s stomach shifted, she had a feeling she knew what he was gloating about.

“Good thing for you, baby, your big brother is not very keen on me harming you,”

“Klaus…” Sunny whimpered.

“Not enough to trade the Snicket girl, though.”

“Why would Klaus trade in his older sister for his younger sister?” Isadora asked. “Your plan is highly flawed,”

“Just leave them alone,” Duncan yelled at the villain. “Aren’t our sapphires enough? Let Sunny go and leave Violet and Klaus alone!”

Olaf gave a cruel laugh. “Have you twins realized that you’re in this predicament because of the Baudelaires and Snickets?”

“We’re triplets!” Duncan yelled angrily. “And we don’t blame them for your decisions,”

Olaf shrugged giving Duncan a cruel laugh. “Ah, the secrets I could share,” he replied tauntingly. He took out his spyglass, moving the dials on it until a ray of light escaped from the lens. He pointed the light at the children. Duncan slightly pushed Isadora and Sunny behind him. He pointed the light at each child, smirking. All three children’s eyes hurt from being so sensitive to the change in light. He pointed the light solely at Sunny. “Like the secrets that your own brother won’t tell you,” he teased. Sunny’s face dropped.

“Birdcage?” she asked the villain, which was her way of asking, “Like what you did to him when I was shoved in the birdcage?”

Olaf looked at her confused for a moment. He wasn’t sure what she meant entirely but he slowly nodded her head. “I’m sure I can tell you that and more,” he told Sunny. “I could tell all three of you orphans such scary, scary things.”

“Fuck off,” Duncan said.

“I can tell you all you want to know about your parents and maybe even why the fire happened,”

“We can figure that out ourselves,” Isadora told the man.

“I highly doubt that,” Olaf said. “You're currently stuck in a cage, orphans. I am your only source of information. Maybe we can strike up a deal?”

He shined the light exclusively on Isadora who closed her eyes. “Don’t even look at my sister!” Duncan hissed angrily.

Olaf laughed. “Do we have to go through this again?” He asked tiredly.

“Brother?” Sunny asked glaring at Olaf. Olaf shined the light at her. Unsure of what she was saying. She looked to Duncan and Isadora. “Down,” she demanded.

Olaf smiled a wicked smile as he looked at the toddler. “You want to learn your family secrets?” he asked the toddler.

Sunny nodded her head as Duncan held her tighter. “Down,” she demanded again.

“Detailed answers like that will cost you,” Olaf warned Sunny. But curiosity killed the cat. Sunny was already determined to learn as much as she could so when Violet and Klaus rescued her she can do her best to relay the information.

“Sunny, what are you doing?” Duncan asked.

Sunny ignored Duncan’s answers as she asked him to put her down. He looked to Isadora who merely shook her head. Not truly liking this. Sunny kicked Duncan until he finally set her down. Sunny inched her way to the end of the cage, she glared out of it as Olaf shined the spyglass on her.

“Somebody’s eager to learn,” Olaf said laughing.

“Fuck you,” Sunny muttered. She hoped Olaf didn’t hear her, she didn’t like to admit it but he scared her. She knew that some part of him already knew the truth.

He looked down at her again, grinning entirely. He began to unlock the cage, Duncan and Isadora both getting nervous. “What are you doing?” Isadora asked.

“Where are you taking Sunny?” Duncan asked.

Olaf smirked as he grabbed the toddler. Sunny tried to show the man absolutely no fear. As he held her, he looked back at the two Quagmires who rushed worriedly to the side of the cage.

“Don’t hurt her!” Isadora cried.

“Give her back!” Duncan cried.

“I won’t hurt her, orphans,” Olaf called back as he carried Sunny away from the Quagmires. “ Not yet...at least,” He called back chuckling.

“Oh shit. Oh shit,” Duncan said aloud. “This is bad. Why did we let her do that?”

‘She’s figuring out the mysteries of her parents and maybe ours and Violet’s father,” Isadora said trying to stay positive.

“He could kill her,”

“He won’t do that unless he had Violet or Klaus in his clutches,”

“We still shouldn’t have let him take her,”

“She’ll be fine. She’s tough,” Isadora reassured although her brother could tell that she wasn’t too sure. “He’ll bring her back soon,”

“I hope so,”

_____________________________________________________________

Klaus ran from 667 Dark Avenue, he didn’t know entirely where he was running to but it felt too familiar for him to be cautious. He ran down the street a couple of blocks, he turned behind him to make sure no one was following him. He continued to run until he reached a neighborhood. His heart was on his sleeve. He looked around and saw the row of fancy houses. His running slowed down a bit when he looked down the street and saw the home that he had been raised in, standing. Completely untouched by the flames that Klaus would have imagined destroyed his home. He sped up in excitement. Could it be...he was finally waking up from this nightmare that had been plaguing him?

“Mother!” He called out happily as he reached the front door of his old home. “Father!”

He continued to call out for either one of his parents. Each of his calls was getting more desperate and more pleading. Finally, he reached Sunny’s nursery to find both of his parents looking mournfully into Sunny’s crib.

“Mother?” Klaus asked nervously. “Father?”

Both his parents turned to look at him. Their disappointed faces were enough to make Klaus want to run and hide. “W-where have you been?” he asked. He wanted so much to hug both of his parents, tell them all about his and Sunny’s adventures but something kept him from wrapping his arms around them. Neither one of his parents answered. They merely shook their heads at him dismissively. They walked from Sunny’s crib to her window, barely paying any attention to their son.

“Mother?” Klaus cried out confused. “Father?” he peered into Sunny’s crib. She wasn’t in there. Where was Sunny? He asked himself. “Where’s Sunny?”

That was when his mother turned around sharply to fully acknowledge him. “We were going to ask you the same question,” Beatrice barked angrily causing Klaus to flinch.

“Where is your sister?” his father asked sternly. Klaus became tongue-tied. He never had his parents this angry with him, it made him uncomfortable.

“I don’t know,” Klaus admitted meekly. “I can get her back, though,”

His parents laughed. “Don’t make another promise you can’t keep,” His father told him. Klaus frowned.

“I’m sorry. I did my best,” he pleaded.

His parents were having any of it. “Your best?” His mother asked. “Your best wasn’t good enough, Klaus. Count Olaf has your sister,”

Klaus could feel the tears in his eyes. “I know. I know. I’m trying to get her back,”

“How do you expect to get her back?”

“I’ll think of something,” he pleads

“You? Or Violet will think of something?” his mother asked him.

He looked down ashamed. “I’m sorry. You have to believe me I did my best,” he begged.

“You had only one job, Klaus. Protect your baby sister and you couldn’t even do that,” his father said.

“I tried. Please,” He cried. “I didn’t mean for her to get kidnapped…”

“We trusted you, son,”

“You’ve let us down,” his mother replied.

Klaus wiped his eyes. “I’m...I’m sorry,”

His parents ignored him, turning their backs toward him. He continued to cry and plead for his parents’ forgiveness. Soon, he believes he can smell smoke. “Mother! Father! We’ve got to get out of…” but he stops, he notices orange flames starting from his parents' ankles rising up. In mere seconds both his parents have caught fire, he screams. Trying to put them out, but the flames are too much for him to control. As they burn he continues to apologize to them and even begs for their forgiveness. He sits in the midst of Sunny’s old nursery crying. Watching as two pile of ashes form around him, where his parents just stood. He’s shaking. He’s crying and screaming. He wants out of this nightmare.

“Klaus!” a voice calls out. It’s a small voice, one full of fear and panic. He recognizes the voice almost immediately. It was Sunny.

He stood up, walking past the two piles of ash. I can fix this. He tells himself, wiping a few of his own tears from his face. “Klaus!” Sunny calls for him again.

“I’m coming sunshine!” he calls back as he runs through several different rooms of his old house. “I’ll save you, Sunny!”

He can hear a cruel laugh from behind him. “Are you sure about that?” the voice hissed in his ear.

“Klaus!” Violet yelled in his face as Klaus’ eyes shot open. He looked around his bedroom. His breathing was shallow and quick.

“V-violet?” he asked. Glancing around the room.

“Klaus...what’s wrong?” she asked worriedly.

“I...I had a bad dream,” Klaus whispered.

“I can see that,” Violet said. “You kept screaming and yelling that you’re sorry,”

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Klaus said trying to hide his shaking.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Violet asked. Klaus shook his head.

“I’m...I’m fine,”

Violet sighed as she sat down on the ground. “You blame yourself still, don’t you?”

He shook his head. “I failed them,” He whispered.

“Who’s them?” Violet asked. “The Quagmires and Sunny?”

He shook his head. “No,” he answered.

“Then who?”

“My parents,” He whispered.

“They don’t blame you…”

“How would you know?” he asked. “They asked me to keep Sunny safe and I haven’t been able to do that at all,”

“Because Olaf won’t let you,”

He shook his head. “I’m a failure,” he whispered.

“Klaus, don’t do this to yourself. We’ll save her.” Violet reassured. “Now go back to sleep,”

He looked around his room nervously. He didn’t want to finish his dream. As bad as his nightmares can get, that one was pretty tamed. He didn’t want to endure anything worse than that. He noticed Violet didn’t get up from her spot on the floor. “What are you doing?’

“I’m going to stay in here until I know you’re okay,” she explained to him.

He sighed but gave her a grateful smile. “You don’t have to,” he explained.

“Go back to sleep,” she told him as he laid back down. He tried his best to close his eyes and allow himself back into a nice sleep but there was a part of him that was too terrified to continue the dream. He tried like hell to get his mind off of his parents and what they would think about his little sister’s predicament. He couldn’t help but blame himself. It didn’t matter what anyone tried to tell him either. He knew deep down Sunny being kidnapped was his fault entirely.

He tried to go back to sleep but wasn’t successful, unfortunately. The rest of the night all Klaus had done was toss and turn in his bed, each time he closed his eyes all he could see or hear were the disappointing faces and tones of his parents. Violet kept true to her word, she had stayed the rest of the night, laying on his floor. She had made a make-shift bed out of pillows and blankets that she had brought in from her room. But even with her right there Klaus couldn’t get back to sleep.

So when Jerome knocked on his door announcing to the children that he had made breakfast. Violet and Klaus hurried to get ready for their day with Jerome. The children were very cautious as to met with Jerome in the kitchen closest to the front door. Jerome had explained to the two kids that Esme had already left for work so that it would simply be the three of them today. That didn’t bother any child because they much preferred to hang out with Jerome than with Esme. Once the two children finished breakfast, Jerome would take the children to some of their favorite places in town. Violet was happy to see that her favorite exhibits at the Verne Invention Museum had not been changed since the last time her father took her, she was happy to take another look at the mechanical demonstrations that had inspired her to be an inventor when she was just two years old. Klaus was delighted to revisit the Akhmatova Bookstore, where his father used to take him as a special treat, to buy an atlas or a volume of the encyclopedia. Jerome had offered to buy Klaus and even Violet a few books if both children were up for it. Violet and Klaus had searched the aisles of the bookstore looking for a book for Duncan, Isadora, and Sunny. Jerome would take the children wherever they asked to go. And for a moment, Violet and Klaus were able to briefly forget all of their troubles and focus on the joy and excitement of being home again. Klaus hadn’t been in the city in a long time, the last time he was here was when he still lived with Count Olaf. As Violet and Klaus took turns suggested where they should visit, Jerome told them stories about their mother. Violet and Klaus would listen as Jerome spoke of stories and stories involving their mother. When Klaus and Violet had asked about their fathers, he didn’t have as many stories of them then he did about their mother. “Esme is the one who knew your fathers,” he had explained to them.

Once the afternoon was coming to a close, the two children and their guardian would head back to 667 Dark Avenue, and the children would get lost hopelessly lost in the penthouse every time they decided to leave a room. Violet had left her bedroom to go brush her teeth and could not find her way back for an hour and Klaus had accidentally left his glasses on a kitchen counter and wasted the entire afternoon searching for them. This seemed to be their lives in routine for the next couple of days.

They would wake up to Jerome offering them breakfast, Jerome would treat them to a fun morning out where they would return home in the afternoon. The two children would wonder where in the world Esme and Gunther were. They didn’t like knowing that Esme was alone with such a notorious villain. They wondered what day will be the day where they find her dead body and Gunther went after Jerome. Three days had passed and the children scarcely saw Esme during the day only at night they would see her and she would announce to them that the In Auction was closer and closer and that she and Gunther were planning the best one yet. Violet and Klaus also noticed that when Esme was home and not at work, she would scarcely make any effort in finding the children and hanging out with them. As if she had forgotten all about the two new members of her family, or was simply more interested in lounging around the rooms in her enormous apartment rather than spending time with the two half-siblings. Violet and Klaus barely minded that she was absent so often. They much preferred spending time with one another or Jerome, rather than participating in endless conversations about what was in and what was out.

Even when the two would spend quiet hours in their rooms, the children didn’t entirely have a splendid time. Although Jerome had bought Violet some tools, he begged her to use them as quiet as possible. If Esme knew she had tools in her penthouse she’d flip because tools have been out for quite a while. Even Klaus, whose special interest was a quiet one especially compared to Violet’s, Jerome had asked him to be careful and to not let Esme catch him with books seeing that books had been out for quite some time. So even in the comfort of his own room, he was afraid Esme would pop in randomly and catch him reading. Another reason why neither sibling could really focus on their hobbies was that in the three days that slowly passed, the two siblings only caught a glimpse of Olaf which worried them. What was he planning that made him leave them alone? They wondered what he could be doing to the Quagmires and Sunny. They even listened each time he spoke hoping he’d give off clues as to where he has hidden them but no such luck for the two siblings.

Even though the two siblings were bored out of their minds, they couldn’t help but fear what the Quagmires and Sunny were going through as Count Olaf’s prisoners. They knew that the Quagmires and Sunny could be experiencing things that are so much worse than it was hard to get through each passing day. With each passing day, their worry for their friends and baby sister felt like a heavy load on their shoulders, and the load only seemed heavier, because the Squalors refused to be of any assistance.

“I’m very, very tired of discussing your little twin friends and your baby sister,” Esme said rudely after the third night of Violet and Klaus moping around her apartment. “I get your worried about them but it’s boring to keep blabbing on about it,”

“We didn’t mean to bore you,” Violet explained as she and Klaus glared at Esme. She didn’t point out that it is terribly rude to tell people that their trouble bore you.

Jerome sighed. “Of course you didn’t,” he replied. “The children are concerned, Esme, which is perfectly understandable. I know Mr. Poe is doing all that he can,”

Klaus scoffed at this. “But maybe we can put our heads together and come up with something,”

“I don’t have time to put my head together,” Esme explained. “The In Auction is coming up, and I have to devote all my energy to make sure it’s a success. Tonight, Gunther is taking us all out to dinner…”

“What?” Klaus asked.

“Gunther is taking the four of us out to dinner,” Esme repeated rolling her eyes. “Are you deaf, orphan boy?”

“W-where?” Klaus asked.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Jerome said.

“Yes, it is wonderful, isn’t it,” Esme replied, glancing over at Klaus. “Try not to embarrass me, orphan boy.”

“I think I’ll just stay home,” Klaus responded. Esme looked at him with utter annoyance.

“No, you will not just stay home,” she responded. “You and Violet are going to come celebrate the In Auction with us.”

“But…”

“We’ll be more than happy to,” Violet said.

Klaus turned to Violet as if she was crazy. “What are you doing?”

“Just trust me,” she responded.

Klaus looked worriedly at his older sister.

Esme stood up clapping her hands. “Let’s go,” she said tirelessly. “We shouldn’t keep Gunther waiting,”

Klaus stood up slowly as Violet followed behind him. The two children followed their guardians out of the penthouse and down the stairs from their penthouse to the lobby of the building. With every step, Violet and Klaus couldn’t help but feel that they were getting closer and closer to Olaf’s clutches. During the walk down, Klaus’ eyes focussed a rather long time on the elevator door. It still puzzled him how there were two pairs of doors only on the top floor. He paid attention to each floor, noticing how there was only a single pair of doors. It was odd to him. Even when the four had reached the lobby where he could see Olaf in his Gunther costume waiting by the front door making sure to hide his face from the doorman, he noticed that even the lobby only had one pair of elevator doors. Klaus couldn’t help but realize that this made absolutely no sense. Why would an elevator only have doors on the top floor and not on any other floor? He asked himself as he could feel Olaf’s glare intensify. He turned his head from the elevator's doors. He didn’t know if he was right but he knew that in the slight chance that he was he didn’t want Olaf knowing that he was figuring it out. So he focused his gaze on anything but the elevator doors. But the only thing on Klaus’ mind was the elevator doors.

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meetthetank · 5 years

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Peccatum Chapter 9: Fireside Chat

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/43675304 Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata). Jackass/The Commander (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), 6O (NieR: Automata), 21O, Jackass (NieR: Automata), The Commander (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe, genre typical violence, long fic, Slow Burn, War

“Damnit!” 9S shouts, kicking a charred plank.

Ash billows out over the darkening sky as the wood crumbles into dust. A light gust carried the cloud of soot over what remains of the humble grain village; a few free standing bits of scaffolding, defaced statues of the region’s senator, and blackened remnants of stone structures.

“This is the fourth one in a row…” 32S mumbles, burying his head in his hands.

“But…” 801S stammers, “I was here not...a month ago! I was here and it was fine! Everyone was fine!”

He sinks to the ground, a cloud of ash billowing out around him. 9S wraps his arms around his friend’s shoulders as 801S lists the people he met (or at least he thinks they’re people he met...it’s impossible to one charred corpse from the next) who ended up in a vile mass grave burning in the center of town. His voice chokes on the name of a farmhand he had been writing to for some time.

“Why...Why would they attack here?!” 801S yells, “There’s nothing here but wheat! No soldiers lived here! There’s no walls, no battlements...They were just farmers!”

For a moment, a heavy silence fills the air between them.

“...The demons are trying to starve us out,” 11S growls, putting words to what they had realized when they arrived, “It isn’t just bloodlust that makes them target these defenseless towns. These farms supply food all across the Republic. Cut off the supply…”

“...And the capitols weaken,” 9S finishes. “The armies weaken.”

The scouts remain quiet, either out of respect for the dead or from the icy fear that grabs hold of their hearts. Somewhere in the back of all of their minds they knew they were fighting an uphill battle, but this is the first time where they fully realize they’re on the losing side of this war. Grossly outnumbered, outmaneuvered at every turn, unable to keep up with the rapid evolution of their enemy. The only ones that stood a chance were the Devoted, but none of the Theocratic clergymen were allowed within the ranks of a Republic army.

“...One of us should double back to the Commander,” 32S says, breaking the silence.

A low sigh escapes 9S. “No one’s gonna be happy about this. We’ve been marching for nearly three days straight.”

9S volunteers to be the one to go back while the other scouts press onward. A strictly maintained five mile gap separates the main force from the scouts, but with only flat farmland and open fields to cross, it doesn’t take long for him to see Commander White atop her warhorse leading the troops. He falls in step next to her and Lieutenant Jackass’ horses easily.

“Well?” White asks, exhaustion creeping into her normally level tone.

9S sighs. “No good. That town’s been razed too. No survivors either.”

“Damn…” Jackass rubs her face with one hand. “We can’t push them for much longer, White.”

“We can’t stop,” the Commander snaps and pulls a small map from her saddlebag. “It’s far too dangerous to halt everyone out in these open fields.”

“It’s also too dangerous to make exhausted soldiers try to defend anything. Look at them White, any longer than another day or so and they’ll start dropping.”

She gestures to the irregular lines of soldiers and carts, most nursing varying degrees of injury that come with days of nonstop movement. A few hitch rides on carts wherever they can find space, or double up on the back of a horse just to get some kind of reprieve. Even 2B, who 9S can see peeking around the bulk of the army, sits on the healer’s supply cart with 6O.

“Here,” White says, snapping 9S out of his thoughts. “There’s a proper town half a day beyond the one we’re about to pass. Walls and a militia. If that’s been razed too, we stop anyway.”

“Understood.”

With time of the essence Jackass loans 9S her horse, a brown stallion named Hort, to ride further ahead. With the speed of the ornery beast, he catches up to the other scouts within the hour. Relaying the information brings some light and hope back to the scouts. 801S hops on the back of Hort, sitting close behind him as they ride.

To pass the time, the pair chat idly about whatever crosses their mind, careful to avoid heavier subjects or politics. 801S teases 9S about 2B, and in turn 9S teases 801S about the archer boy he’s been eyeing for a while. They reminisce about old times, simpler times, till they see the turrets of the town’s walls.

“Their wall’s still standing!” 801S shouts, bouncing excitedly much to the displeasure of Hort.

9S is about speak, but the sight of a wooden sign with a crude depiction of a half-demon stops the words in his throat. Though it is devoid of words, the message is clear enough to him. A warning. A threat.

801S’ expression sours when he notices the tension creeping through 9S. “...Stop the horse here. I’ll go ahead inside and let the town know the main force is on its way.”

“Thanks,” 9S says with a shudder in his voice.

Uncertainty worms its way through his gut as he rides back towards the advancing army. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’s come across a town with that kind of mindset, but it always brings risk. It isn’t exactly like he can blame them, either. With the only thing separating the town from the demon hordes roaming around is a few stones, paranoia is to be expected.

At least within the ranks of an army he’s relatively safe.

The sun reaches its highest peak by the time 9S reaches White again, who announces the good news. Soldiers erupt into cheers, energy surging back through their exhausted bodies. They don’t even complain when she announces that the march will move into double time to reach the town before nightfall, in fact it seems to bolster their spirits further.

9S returns Hort to his owner and hops onto the healer’s wagon with 6O and 2B.

“So, what are you ladies talking about? Girl things?” he asks with a smirk.

6O snorts, “We have much better things to talk about than fashion and marriage.”

2B tilts her head to the side in a way that 9S can’t help but consider adorable. “Is that what humans consider feminine?”

“Well, yeah,” 9S says with as much confusion as is on 2B’s face, “What do Coatyls consider feminine?”

“Stoicism, well maintained weapons, and…” 2B pauses to think for a moment. “...A healthy amount of bloodlust.”

“Oh. That...explains some things.”

6O laughs at his expense. 2B just holds that same bewildered expression she has whenever she’s confronted with the novelties of human culture as 9S and 6O trade playful punches with each other.

“Anyway, 2B,” 6O begins once she’s had her fill of punching and laughing at 9S, “as I was saying, my patron god isn’t necessarily evil. None of the old gods are, they’re simply...forces of nature.”

“Oh no,” 9S groans. “She’s doing this again.”

“Quiet, you.”

He sticks his tongue out at her, but lets 6O continue.

“I’m familiar with the pantheon, but why...that one?” 2B asks.

“They’re representative of nature, decay, the cyclical aspects of life; that kind of thing. They’re a bit overlooked compared to some of the other, more powerful gods.”

“Wait, which one is this again?” 9S interrupts.

“Their name isn’t exactly pronounceable by the untrained tongue, and invoking it without warrant can have...nasty consequences. Roughly translated, the name is Infinite Equine, or Long Horse.”

“Ugh, right. That nasty horse skull thing. It’s so creepy!”

“I have to agree with 9S,” 2B says. “It is a bit...off-putting.”

“What did you think the manifestation of life, death, and rebirth was going to look like?!” 6O snaps. “A cute little rabbit?!”

“You’re a cute little rabbit!” 9S shouts, and bursts into laughter a second later.

“That...doesn’t seem like an insult,” 2B says through barely contained laughter.

True to the Commander’s word, the army arrives at the town’s gates as just as the moon begins to rise. 801S and the rest of the scouts, along with a few local guards, greet them as they pass through the walls. The townsfolk who are still wrapping up their daily routines stop and stare at the army nearly four times the size of their haphazard militia marching down their main street.

He knows it’s a fools game, but 9S can’t help but let his mind wander. This town is decently fortified, relatively clean, not destitute but not aristocratic...It’d be the perfect place to settle down once the war is over. To finally stop being a soldier, being a part of an army and live a simple life. Maybe even get married and start a family. His gaze wanders to 2B, who looks around the town and its well maintained brick buildings with wonder.

Well..so long as he’s fantasizing.

He must look like a blushing maid, but at the moment he doesn’t really care. It’s good for the mind to indulge in the ideal future every now and then. Images play across his mind in quick succession, each one more unobtainable than the last. It doesn’t stop his heart from fluttering at the thought.

What a silly daydream this is. Why would a warrior such as 2B have any desire to be a housewife, to raise children, or to settle down entirely? She probably intends to live and die on the battlefield, swathed in blood and glory. He doesn’t pay it too much mind, it is a simple daydream after all. No need to get too hung up on reality.

Until reality hits him square in the chest.

As the army passes through the center of town, 9S comes face to face with the grim truth of his life. In the middle of the open plaza, a crude wooden gallows looms over them, and from this morbid structure hangs a recent victim.

The body, whose face is obscured by a roughspun sack, appears fresh. The skin is only a pale shade of purple and rot has yet to set in. His hands are bound behind his back with thick rope that cuts into the skin, staining them black with dried blood. He’s stripped of clothing, revealing thick brown fur that covers him from the waist down, barely concealing the wound where his genitals would have been as well as the hooves in place of human feet. A length of parchment hangs from his chest, held in place by rusting iron hooks.

“Here hangs…..for the crime of Demonic Parentage.”

The name appears to have been vandalized, instead of identifying the victim, it instead reads slurs and obscenities 9S would rather not read in their entirety.

A number of soldiers, including 21O and Jackass, fidget and shy away as they pass the body. Tension worms its way through everyone, even the horses grumble with agitation.

He pulls his hood around his face and sinks into anonymity within the ranks of the army.

What a fool he is to dream.

The army pitches a slap-dash camp on the northern side of the town, a rough series of tents and bedrolls. It isn’t much, but it gives the soldiers a chance to sit down and rest within the safety of the walls. They eat and drink and sing bawdy songs around a small fire, and despite the dire state of the war levity and joy returns to the army. If only for a moment.

It all proves to be too much for 2B, who excuses herself to river a few miles away when the songs take a much louder and raunchier turn. She underestimated just how social humans were, the constant chatting and the way they move around in groups of three or more, groups of people who weren’t even related. The open air and quiet solitude is something she needed before she starts snapping at people.

This region’s fish are small, too small for her liking. She should have expected it: the water barely came up to her scaled ankles. They’re more like snacks than a proper meal, each one barely larger than her beak. 6O warned her about passersby that might see a giant white dragon and attack, but the only thing that catches her eye is a deer that gets a bit too close for her liking. She eats her fill of fresh fish, something she’s found herself longing for since falling in with White’s army, then flies back to the town.

2B perches on the top of the wall, taking a moment to preen her wings of dirt and grime. To her surprise the camp is silent, save for the snores of soldiers and the crackling of one remaining campfire. The way they were carrying on, she thought they were going to be at it all night. Their leader must have told them the march would resume early. To 2B, someone who possesses the gift of flight, the whole idea of an ordered march seems unnecessary. She chastises herself for thinking this way, these humans and their awful work beasts called horses don’t have the same abilities she does, so they must work around their faults.

The approaching footsteps of a local guard break her from her musings. Not wanting to attract unwanted attention herself, she hops from the top of the wall in the middle of a transformation. A swordswoman out for a quiet walk is more explainable than a feathered beast in a human’s eyes.

As 2B wanders past the last dying campfire, she notices a familiar face sitting alone. Curled into himself, sitting on the ground, is 9S. His face is buried in his arms, but the shock of white hair is unmistakable, even in the low light. A sharp pang shoots through 2B’s chest at the pathetic sight and finds herself walking over to him.

9S looks up at the sound of encroaching footsteps with fear in his eyes, though his features quickly soften once he realizes it’s only 2B. He gives her a half hearted wave before wrapping his arms around himself.

“You seem troubled,” 2B says, sitting on the ground next to him.

“Huh?” He rubs his face. “No, no I’m fine. I’m…”

“A poor liar.”

9S lets out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah. I guess so.”

2B gives him a moment to collect himself. He sits up straighter, kicking his legs out and letting himself stretch and get a few breaths of cool night air.

“I guess it’s...I’m…” He sighs. “You never really get used to seeing a body that…that could have been you.”

“Ah...I see,” 2B mutters.

How could she be so dense? Of course seeing something like that would affect him. She should try to comfort him.

She has no idea how to comfort humans.

“I’m sorry,” 9S says. “It’s...it’s silly to be scared. White’s army is one of the only safe places for people like me...For half-demons. We can live and work and fight without having to fear our friends turning on us. But…”

He swallows a lump forming in his throat and wipes his eyes. “But the moment I step outside the army, the moment I try and form a life outside combat and war...I could end up on the end of a rope. Or worse.”

“You look human, though. Your charm necklace conceals anything suspect.”

“Yeah, but it isn’t foolproof.” He turns the little charm in his fingers a few times. “It’s weak magic, something a child could pull off. Easily detected or disarmed, but discrete and easy to make. Mom-...21O made this for me, it’s like the one she’s got.”

9S taps the jewel twice. With a faint shimmer, small nub-like growths appear just below his hairline, parting his hair slightly. His thin tail curls around his leg, and his eyes fade to nearly pure white.

It’s odd, 2B has only seen this form only once before, but the shock is gone. It’s about as strange to her as seeing him with a different haircut. So instead of recoiling in fear, all she does is tilt her head a little.

He taps the jewel again and the demonic features disappear. “It’s so stupid...everyone’s so scared of a few weird additions. But...We’re capable of...gods know what.”

9S hangs his head in shame and curls back into himself. He rests his forehead on his knees. “Are you scared, too?”

She twists the end of her robe between her clawed fingers. “I...I’ve never met a half-demon before you, I must admit.”

“Really?”

2B shakes her head and stares into the embers. “I’ve only ever had...encounters...with proper demons.” Her hands curl into fists. “They attacked our village one day, without warning. Even our strongest warriors had trouble fighting them off. They killed…I don’t know how many of us. The village was devastated in just an hour.”

“Oh…”

An aching cold creeps its way through 9S’ chest, one that won’t leave no matter now tightly he pulls his cloak.

“I’ve never met a half-demon before,” 2B says again. “...But if they’re anything like you…”

Her fist unlocks itself, and with uncharacteristic trepidation, she places her hand on his shoulder. 9S doesn’t anticipate just how warm it was, its gentle weight more comforting than his old coat.

“Well...I think you’re a good person.”

9S smiles, just a little, and leans into her, his head resting on her shoulder.

“...Thanks, 2B.”

#nier automata fanfiction #nier atuomata #2b #9s #nier commander #nier jackass #fantasy au #fanfiction #Tanks fics

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makeste · 5 years

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BnHA Chapter 134: A Magnificent Debut

Previously on BnHA: Some yakuza dickwad shot Amajiki with a bullet that deactivated his quirk. Kirishima ran off after him and laid him out with a manly punch. The guy acted like a good defeated villain for about 30 seconds, and then shot himself up with some sort of quirk-enhancing drug. Then he sprouted a bunch of swords from his body and tried to stab Kirishima. Kirishima flashed back to his quirk-strengthening training, and a pep talk that Bakugou gave him about never backing down. Present-day Kirishima then proceeded to hulk out into a badass unbreakable rock man.

Today on BnHA: Kirishima wraps up his fight and, spoiler alert, wins. Everyone congratulates him and it even ends up making the news. Meanwhile, Fat Gum relays the news about the quirk-suppressing and enhancing drugs to Nighteye. Several days later, Kirishima is called back in to his internship along with Deku, Tsuyu, and Ochako. All of them meet up at Nighteye’s office, along with the Big Three, Fat Gum, Ryuukyuu, and even Aizawa and Gran Torino. Nighteye informs them all that he’s gathered them to discuss the Eight Precepts.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 164 now, so any ETAs will reflect that.)

Kirishima Eijirou has turned into a weird sort of dinosaur looking dude made out of rock

and he’s running toward knifey stabby man, whose swords are now all broken, as you’ll recall

oh damn, knifey stabby man is making one last all-in play here

that’s enough swords to build the goddamn iron throne

Kirishima is taking the entire blow head-on because there are still people behind him and people in the shops around them

he’s so fucking heroic you guys

he’s thinking to himself that he’ll use brute force to overwhelm him. heeeeey. exactly like All Might said, huh

I was just starting to think to myself that I was getting a bit tired of Kirishima just turning into a rock dude and doing muscly rock dude things, and then this fucking happens and I’m like, “but damned if it isn’t satisfying to see Kirishima punch this guy so hard he goes flying off his feet, though”

and then I also remember that my all-time favorite moment in this series is not when Bakugou fought Deku the second time, or when All Might hugged Deku on the beach, or even when All Might hugged Bakugou, but rather when Kouta punched Deku in the nuts that one time

so idk. maybe at the end of the day I’m pretty simple-minded after all

that said, this guy had better be down for real this time

that was pretty manly, dude

one of the bystanders is like, “he’s so young... but such fury...” lmao. yes. look how furious

furious like a damn puppy

knifey stabby has started crying again

he’s fucking asking Kirishima to let him go. um, no lol

what the fuck Kirishima

“sorry I can’t do that because you shot my friend and tried to kill me after you just pulled this exact same stunt two minutes ago. but I will still be empathetic towards you because I’M LITERALLY THE NICEST PERSON”

seriously Kiri, Red Riot isn’t gonna cut it any more. time to change that hero name to Mister Nice Guy

and then when you get really pissed off, you can be all, “THAT DOES IT!!! NO MORE MISTER NICE GUY.” get it. I think it’s a good idea that could really catch on

now what is this son of a bitch up to

are you gonna launch yourself into the air or something. don’t do that, actually. Kirishima’s not that mobile. although it has been a while since we last saw FG so maybe he could show up and catch you

oh look. he is launching yourself into the air

Kirishima’s cursing himself for just standing there and letting him escape again. yeah, you dumb, boy

knifey stabby is gleefully whooping about how Kirishima is way too naive and trusting, and that he’s gonna get away! for sure! no way he’s getting caught!! famous last words, what do you mean, what are those

lol

as many times as this series has pulled the rug out from under me, it’s nice to still be able to call it every once in a while

FG’s capturing the guy with his quirk and reminding Kirishima that while villains may have any number of goals, the heroes’ goals are always the same: capture the villains without any victims

hey, that sounds familiar. basically just another way of saying “win and rescue”, isn’t it? All Might really was right

anyway here’s FG’s quirk

at first I read this as “5000 goopy” and I was like, “what an odd unit of measurement”

Kiri’s standing there excitedly and thinking “wow! FG beat him instantly!” but really all he did was stand there and absorb him into his goop

now a nice Kansai accented man is thanking Kiri and says he did amazing, and that he didn’t fail to notice how Kiri was purposely keeping knifey stabby focused on him so that he wouldn’t attack the others

what a nice thing to say in front of Kiri’s mentor!

LOOK AT THIS WHOLESOME CONTENT

[HAIR RUFFLES!!!!]

now we’re back by the takoyaki place and Kiri is apparently telling FG and Amajiki about the quirk-enhancing drug

FG seems to know a lot about this. he says the short duration indicates the drug is an Asian knockoff. apparently there are African ones that last up to 1-2 hours

how much do you want to bet that Overhaul kept all the long-lasting ones for his best guys

(ETA: sweet jesus imagine if he had. we would still be in that basement to this day)

one of the cops is running over to FG

looks like they found the “bullet” that ricocheted off of Kirishima’s hardened forehead earlier and are going to check it out

Kiri’s asking Amajiki if he’s okay, and Amajiki is hiding himself under his costume hood

he’s embarrassed not just because his quirk stopped working, but because his kouhai had to cover for him. d’aww

he says Kirishima is the same type as Mirio. “another of those that shines bright like the sun”

Kiri says Amajiki shines just as much!

I’m starting to feel like Kirishima may literally be compelled to say something whenever someone around him starts badmouthing themselves. like, he physically can’t stand there and let them

while they bond, Fat Gum is thinking to himself that although he’s familiar with the quirk-boosting drugs, he’s never heard of a drug that makes quirks unusable. and he’s thinking to himself that this doesn’t look good

so they’re gonna take Amajiki to the hospital to get him checked out. good call. why haven’t they already done that, in fact. why were they just standing around talking for so long

“for starters, let’s head back to the office.” dude. I’m glad you’re being chill about this, I guess, but there’s like no urgency at all

BACK TO U.A. HOORAY

Kaminari is excitedly waving his phone in Kirishima’s face and announcing that Kiri made the news

meanwhile Bakugou is grinding his teeth but not actually saying anything. does that count as being supportive

(ETA: ooh I forgot he was in this one panel here. probably because he does absolutely nothing at all. but he really sells that background gag though)

Ochako and Tsuyu made the news too! niiiiiice

Iida is telling them that they’ve “rendered a splendid service”

BUT

sometimes he reminds me of Percy from HP

now they’re talking about supplementary lessons and stuff. actually, yeah, I’m impressed Kiri is managing to juggle both the internship and his schoolwork. unlike the other interning students, he’s in the bottom 25% of the class. Ochako isn’t much better, but I’d bet her grades are more middling

apparently Sero was considering interning too (and he’d be great honestly), but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle it. I think he was ranked like 17th out of 20. I just posted that recap pretty recently

while everyone else sits there being excited about their internships, Deku is sitting there being moody af about his. and I can’t honestly blame him. All Might potentially dying, Nighteye believing Deku isn’t good enough and being determined to prove that Mirio is a better choice; and last but not least my poor sweet little jelly bean Eri whom I have not forgotten about and who is still in peril!! :|!

and Deku hasn’t forgotten about her either and says the thought of her is constantly present in his mind day in and day out

now it’s “several days later” and Kirishima and Deku are meeting up outside the dorms early in the morning and seem pleasantly surprised

and the girls too! that’s nice

obviously this is the day of the big operation Nighteye was talking about that he had called in additional agencies to help with. and as we know, their agencies were coincidentally the ones he called

though it doesn’t seem like they’ve actually realized that yet lol

they’re remarking on how they’re all taking the same train even though Kiri’s agency is in Kansai. he says he was told the meeting place is somewhere different than usual

weird that Deku was told he didn’t need his costume though. were the others told the same?

(ETA: I keep forgetting there is a really easy way to verify this, which is just to look and see if they’re actually carrying the costume briefcases lol. and they are not)

also, are their senpais already at the agency? Mirio and the rest?

lmao

how fucking slow are these kids

at this point if I were Deku I’d be half-suspecting some sort of weird surprise party lol

finally they’re turning the corner and there are Mirio, Hadou, and Amajiki

I wonder if Amajiki’s quirk is back yet??

OH MY GOD

EVEN FUCKING AIZAWA IS THERE. and Gran too! AND IS THAT SOME SORT OF FUCKING COCKROACH MAN HOLY SHIT I JUST SUPPRESSED A SHUDDER

so Deku’s freaking out that two of his teachers are there, and he’s trying to figure out what’s going on

dude, you know what’s going on. even I remember, and it’s been more than a week since I read the chapter where Nighteye mentioned this whole thing

so now Nighteye has arrived and is calling the meeting to order

and the chapter is just ending there. lol. okay

BONUS:

I’m gonna be honest with you guys. I didn’t read this bonus page until literally the night before I posted this recap. it’s like that for all the bonus pages in this volume

and also, I’m not quite sure if this is the correct page for this chapter? but he is in the chapter, albeit just as a background character on that one page with Everybody

anyway. Centipeder. what can I say about him. he scares the living shit out of me. I’m so scared of centipedes. they’re so gross and they’re fucking sneaky and the few times I’ve seen them they were just chilling on the couch or even the bed without any warning omg. one time when I was in college there was a centipede hiding under the strap of my messenger bag and I didn’t notice until I’d already grabbed it and it was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. I would seriously take spiders over centipedes any fucking day

anyway. so here’s a centipede who’s six and a half feet tall. and they say he’s a hero and a gentlemen. sure. okay then. but I don’t trust him. pretty sure he is the U.A. traitor. even though he doesn’t actually work at U.A. he’s evil okay. just... I don’t want to look at him anymore lmao

#bnha #boku no hero academia #kirishima eijirou #midoriya izuku #uraraka ochako #asui tsuyu #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #horikoshi: 'okay I just finished giving kirishima a two-chapters-long fight scene which was very cool'#'now to plan the other fights for this arc'#'both uraraka and tsuyu are involved in the raid'#'maybe I should give one of them a big fight'#'...'#'nah you know what'#'I'll just have kirishima fight *again*'

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