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melonba11s · 11 months

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No longer playing along (Strade/Fem MC fanfic)

A continuation of This Fic!

Contains: NonCon, Oral, MFM threesome, Strade, Ren, Fem MC.

Neither of the two men were very gentle, moving her down to the basement. She was definitely going to have several bumps and bruises. But that didn’t matter much to Strade, leaning against the counter in the “shop” as Ren tied her wrists to the pole. She was beginning to stir already, groaning softly at the ache of her new wounds.

The bruises from his chokehold on her were already starting to appear, like a crude necklace around her throat.

Ren’s tail was thumping eagerly against the basement floor as he sat back, not moving to wipe his sweat. He was waiting for Strades to go ahead. Strade smiled to himself, grabbing a beer from his mini fridge to crack open. His foxes eyes were raking over her body, almost as much of an assault as what his next actions would be.

He watched in glee, cracking open his beer as Ren couldn’t help himself anymore, reaching out to paw and grope at her chest.

“She’s cute.” Ren said. “Really cute. I wish she were mine…”

Ah, he was talking to himself. A small habit of Ren’s that Strade found particularly adorable.

“Go ahead, Fuchs. Have your fun.” Strade gestured, as if he were a door man waving a couple inside. Ren was pulling his erection out of his pants in an instant, jerking himself off quickly for a few seconds before lining himself up. Strade could see his cum still dripping from her hole, should make for an easy enough entrance for his pet.

Ren shoved himself in, letting out one of his odd animalistic howls as he did. Perhaps Strade had kept him a bit too pent up… He couldn’t really remember the last time he allowed Ren to have a turn with a guest.

His newest toy was waking up in earnest now. Her eyes were squinted in the harsh basement light, looking at Ren in confusion, as if she couldn’t quite process what he was doing to her. Then her eyes traveled to Strade, and recognition flashed in them. Then she gave a hiccup, glancing back at Ren, before screwing her eyes shut.

She made a few noises like she wanted to talk, perhaps it was to beg Strade for something, or to yell at Ren to stop. She only made a few attempts though before they died off into tears. She was sobbing, her entire body shaking as she was violated.

“Why are you crying?” Strade stopped from mid sip, as Ren snarled. “I’m not hurting you, I’m being NICE to you, he’s the one who’s gonna hurt you. You have nothing to cry about yet.”

Strade raised an eyebrow, but then rolled his eyes. Ren wasn’t exactly wrong, she hadn’t even received a lick of what was about to happen to her. Instead of focusing on Ren’s words though, he looked back at her crumpled form. Face screwed up, red, tears running down her face.

Strade took in a deep breath, holding a hand to his stomach. Seeing her like this… It made his guts clench, like a vice was squeezing his intestines together. It was intense, it made his eyes water and bile rise into his throat. Each sob released from her throat came with a rough serrated edge to it that felt like it sliced into his own flesh. His heart was beating in his ears, he was on the verge of hyperventilation…

He was achingly hard.

“Ren. Move.” He set his beer down. Ren gave a growl, curling himself around her like a protective cocoon.

“Not like that.” Strade corrected himself. “I’ve already tried that hole. Leave enough room for me to have her mouth.” He moved, stepping over the two of them and kneeling down until he was straddling her chest. Rens thrusts were making her move slightly under him. But he could do what he needed in this position.

Strade unbuckled his belt, before pulling down his zipper, keeping his eyes on her. Her gaze was flying between his tented pants and his face, her pupils like pinpricks.

“Aaah, Never sucked a cock before, have you?” he pushed his underwear down enough to let his cock out. She winced as it hit her cheek, smearing precum across it.

“In fact.. Ren, would you believe it? This is only the second time she’s ever seen a penis!” He began laughing, hearing Ren grunt in acknowledgement of his words. He just didn’t seem to find it as funny as Strade did.

Strade rolled his eyes. Sometimes humor was lost on his little fox. Instead, he ran his fingers through her hair, before grabbing a fistful of it.

“Don’t worry, you’ve never done this before… so I’ll guide you through it. Now open your mouth.” he ordered. She was terrified, she didn’t want to. But she still obeyed. How quaint.

Strade dragged the head of his dick across her tongue slowly, huffing.

“You actually don’t have to do anything… just let me take the lead.” he flashed her his widest grin, before pulling her forward. About thirty-three percent of people in the world did not have a gag reflex. She was obviously apart of the other sixty-six. The way she gagged the moment he was past her back row of teeth, letting out a short yell, then it was cut off.

All she could do was try and pull back against his grip, her throat flexing and mouth slobbering all over him as her body tried to pull in another breath.

“Haha, just relax! Just like you relaxed in my room!” Strade groaned, he could never last long with the feeling of someone choking on his cock. He could tell Ren was getting close too, letting out growls and whines behind him as he sped up.

“Actually, come to think of it… This must be your first threesome too!” Strade commented, seeing anger and humiliation flash in her eyes. Strade let out a giggle, patting her cheek with his spare hand. Behind him, Ren let out a familiar animalistic howl as he came.

“Don’t worry. I’ll guide you through a TON of your firsts… We’ll make sure you get through a lot of them before you break…” A dangerous cocktail of emotions was brewing behind her face.

Anger. She was mad at him and Ren for violating her like this.

Fear. She was afraid of him, and what he was going to do to her after this.

Regret. Regret for accepting his invitation, falling for every little play he made.

Betrayal… She loved him. She had really loved him. Despite the first date, despite barely knowing him, she thought she had found the one. And the truth was so devastating, he could feel every “I want to die. I want to die.” trickling through each tear.

He wiped one of those tears up gently, licking it off his finger. Salty. But there was something else buried there. The gentleness of his touch had reawoken it in her. The way her face sagged just a little, the sharpness in her eyes calmed…

She still loved him, despite everything so far.

Or maybe it was just her passing out from lack of air yet again, as Strade came down her throat, moaning.

“Good girl, Good girl” he praised, before pulling himself out. He watched as she coughed, spitting out gobs of his cum, drool spilling down her lips, taking in gasping breaths.

“She’s about to pass out.” Ren commented from behind. Strade turned to look at him. He already had his pants back on, and was standing back. Probably in order to run in case he felt like Strades' attention was about to turn on him.

Strade was much too tired for that though, he needed a break before he played with anyone again. He looked back down at the shuddering woman under him.

Her eyes were glazed over, as she stared into nothing.

“Hey now, don’t tell me you’re broken already.” Strade said, impatiently slapping her cheek. She gave a small whimper, wincing a bit, before turning her head away. Good, not broken, just tired, like he was. Strade stood himself up, tucking his cock back into his pants.

“... I’ll get her a blanket. She won’t be able to rest well enough for you if she’s cold. And I’ll clean up her clothes you left scattered around the house.” Strade just nodded, walking back to the counter to finish his beer. Ren probably just wanted her underwear, he’d probably find them eventually stiff with the foxboy’s cum. He wrinkled his nose a little. Gross, he’d have to remind Ren to actually wash his cumrags once in a while.

He really needed to get some sleep though, best to leave Ren up to his activities…

That had been a week ago. The memory of it was still fresh in Strades mind, as he was kicked back on the couch watching the game. He’d made a ton of other memories with her too, more for the catalog.

Her screams as he sliced her open, begging over the whirr of his favorite drill, and the constant crying. She cried so much, he’d needed to make sure to give her more water than usual. The moment he came into her view, the tears would begin to well up.

He was surprised she’d lasted so long, most didn’t make it past a few days with him. Something about her made him hold back, just enough. She was very nearly broken though. That morning when he had gone down there to offer her some food, only a few tears had trickled down her face.

She’d scarfed down the protein bar like a dog, not looking at him, before obediently sitting back down for him to tie to the pole. A shell of herself, a body that only knew to take care of its needs to survive another day.

… If she got some proper rest though, he was betting he could bring her back.

“You’re quiet.” Strade was brought back to the presence by Ren’s voice. The beastkin was leaning over the kitchen counter, eyes on him. “You’re not usually quiet, you always have something to say.”

Strade crushed his empty can of beer in his fist, holding it out. Ren came over quickly, relieving him of the trash.

“I’m just thinking. I’m allowed to do that sometimes.” Strade scratched at his chin as a commercial break came on.

“... Is it about her?” Ren pressed another, fresh can of beer into his hand.

“Yeah.” Strade saw no reason to lie. “... I just spent weeks getting her to fall in love you know? It would be a shame if she broke too quickly. Have to make her last.” Ren hummed, sitting next to Strade. Out of reflex, Strade wrapped an arm around the younger man, pulling him tight to his side.

“... You’re attached to her, aren’t you?” Ren asked. There was an edge of fear in his voice. Strade narrowed his eyes. Ren was afraid, afraid of being replaced perhaps? He had no reason to fear that…

“... I mean. You got to know her really well, you spent a lot of time with her, outside of the basement so… It would make sense for you to form a bond with her. Usually you just grab people from the bar, you don’t even know them for a day before you have them fearing for their life.”

“People become their true selves when they know they’re about to die, they let go of a lot of things holding them back and really let themselves feel. That’s why I do it.” Strade explained.

“I know, you’ve told me before…” Ren sounded resigned. Strade watched as condensation began to form on his unopened beer. He set it down on the coffee table.

“You remember how I made a spare for your collar?” he asked, casually sliding a finger along the ring of metal around Ren's neck. Ren stiffened a little, but nodded.

“Is it still in the kitchen drawer?” Ren nodded again, his ears flat against his head.

“Good boy.” Strade ruffled his hair now, trying to get those ears to stand back up. “... I’m gonna head downstairs for a bit, alright? Stay here, think of something to make for dinner… Whatever it is though, make enough for three people.”

Strade got up now, flicking the TV off before heading to the kitchen drawer, grabbing the spare collar and remote. He weighed it in his hands. It was heavy, not just in weight, but in its implications.

He brought it with him to the basement, keeping his pace even as he descended the stairs. She was slumped against the pole, her gaze on him. It was flat, emotionless, but she glanced down at the collar in his hands. Curiosity and fear flickered on her face, before she turned her head away from him.

“Hey there, Buddy. Holding up down here?” he glanced over her body. Ugly slashes, crude stitches, dried blood.

“... I’m really tired.” she admitted, her voice sounded like gravel. “I…” her voice was quivering now. “I just wanna go hooommeee..” she drew out the last word with a moan.

Not quite broken yet, Strade was relieved to see those familiar tears begin anew.

“I wanna go home, I wanna go home, I wanna go home!!!” she was whining now, shaking her head. A little tantrum, it reminded him of how she acted before he had turned the tables on her. How adorable.

“Aah, Heulsuse, you are home!” Strade knelt down, running a hand down her face. She instinctively leaned into the gentle touch, a welcome change to the violence she had become accustomed to.

Strade held her as still as he could, slipping the collar on. A perfect fit, it gave a small click as it locked into place.

“... What… is this?” she asked, as Strade reached back to untie her hands. Even when the bonds came loose, she stayed still, stayed at his feet as he stood up.

“A little something I made, to keep you inside. Don’t go near the doors, if you don’t want a nasty shock…. Tell me, Heulsuse. Do you want to live?” an important question. A final test of sorts.

She was silent, staring at him. He stared back, keeping his expression neutral. She was looking him over, eyebrow twitching, lips moving silently as if he had just asked her an essay question from a college entrance exam.

“... Yes.” she finally decided on her answer, now looking at the floor. A good choice, the right answer. An unbroken person's answer. Despite being such a blubberer, she was strong.

“Then I’ll take good care of you.” Strade grinned, leaning down to get her to her feet. “You’ll be one of my favorite toys.”

#btd fanfic #strade #boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death fanfic #ren hana #ren btd #ren boyfriend to death

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black-is-iconic · 8 months

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Midnight Lover

They only came in the dead of night, when the moon is full and the village is quiet save for the few quiet snores spilling from those who could still sleep peacefully despite the heinous sacrifices they'd so eagerly preformed to save their own worthless skins. You just happen to be one of those sacrifices, tied to a post like an animal for the slaughter. left to the mercy of night crawlers, a silent plea to the gods fell from your lips to make your death a swift one. The air is thick with dread and a sense of foreboding your own stomach curled itself into knots as the first woman alongside you vanishes from her binds in a blur of movement too quick to even see, her ear piercing screams are short lived followed by a wet splat and a laugh that can only be described as a cackle of pure glee and madness, a sound that chilled you to the bone and brought forth a fresh wave of tears as a second girl vanishes in the same manner.

Panic surges through your veins like a fever taking over every nerve ending in your body as you try desperately try pull from your binds but with each movement the ropes almost feels like a coiling snake digging it's fangs into your wrists, leaving angry, red welts in its wake as you fight to get free but you fail miserably.

The sound of thunder rumbled in your ears, and it took well over a minute to realize it was the beating of your own heart and the sound of your own blood rushing through your eardrums in tandem with the sounds of chaos around you as one after the other several girls disappear in the blink of an eye and a short shrill scream, you tried to control your breathing. You tried hard not to hyperventilate, but your body fails you drawing in breath and making a strangled noise that sounded like a sob as everything becomes a blur and you feel yourself growing dizzy and nauseous, black dots dancing along the edge of your vision, you closed your eyes allowing your fate to be sealed but through the chaos of your rambling mind came a tranquil calm.

A gentle voice, a mothers voice whispering in the depths of your mind, 'remember that trick you used to show me?' Your eyes flew open open and your mind filled with determination, casting a glance over your shoulder only two lone girls stood in between you and the cold clutches of death so you took a deep breath and dislocated your thumbs with a muffled scream as you chewed your bottom lip freeing your self from the ropes that bound your wrist.

Quickly fixing your thumbs with a shuddering breath you shook the pain from them and set on work untying the other ropes, it didn't take long before all the remaining ropes lay discarded on the ground and your body soon followed. Your body lay stunned on the ground taking in breath like a fish out of water and your heart continued to hammer erratically in your chest, your hands shaking as you slowly rose to your feet. All the blood rushed back to your head and made you dizzy as you tried to stand straight, your knees wobbled but you were able to remain on your feet, you heard shouts coming from nearby which prompted you to run, as fast as you could into the gaping maul of the dark forest a lousy decision yes but better than turning to the very cretins who'd doomed you to this fate.

The forest had never seemed more sinister to you, the shadows cast by the trees and the slither of moonlight resembled gnarled claws reaching out for your flesh, the silence was overwhelming. It felt like the night had swallowed up any form of life except for yourself, your heard them clear as day. The rustling of leaves and the snap of branches underfoot filled your ears, you're pursuers chose a languid pace. Both you and they knew they could catch you in half a second running was futile you were already dead and yet, you couldn't bring yourself to stop moving.

In fear and confusion, your legs carried you forward the sounds of the forest falling to the way side as your own breath echoed in your ears. You kept running. Your feet pounded against the ground without rhythm, your lungs burned as you sucked in breaths and held them, your heart raced as the adrenaline coursed through your bloodstream and your palms grew clammy with sweat, there seemed to be no end to the sea of wood and brush, your eyesight grew hazy but still you persisted, you couldn't go back down now. The woods gave way, opening up to a clearing, a small house, nothing much but it was better than nothing so channeling the rest of your strength you slammed the entirety of your body into the small rickety wooden door forcing it open with a loud creak.

Scrambling to your trembling legs you closed the door pulling the old dusty couch in front of the door and propping it up so it barricaded your entrance completely while you panted heavily on the floor trying to recover rolling over to your side in a weak attempt to return to your feet, unbeknownst to the two azure blue eyes watching you from the shadows. A loud thud echo's off the rood and a cloud of dust rains down on your senses pulling a sneeze from your throat followed by a dry cough. An eerie silence falls over the small cottage, a cold chill runs down your spine causing goosebumps to rise on your skin as the hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end.

As you slowly backed away from the bucking door, the couch seemed a good barrier as of now but that wouldn't last this you understood was certain. You slowly backed up until you found yourself firmly pressed against something…warm and firm, slowly dragging your fingers along the surface you felt silken robes give way to warm flesh. Fingertips grazing along sculpted abdominal muscles, warm breath tickled your nape drawing your gaze upward where a beautiful soft faced male looked down at you.

His skin smooth, dark, and rich as honey, illuminated by his shimmering pools of sapphire eyes. A kanji reading four branded into his irises, his luscious ebony curls spilled down his neck, back and shoulders tickling your nose as you exhaled a breath of air in a sigh, he was breathtaking in his beauty and grace. His warm clawed hands slide up your thighs, resting on your hips and pulling you tighter against him, but you made no efforts to flee either too tired or enthralled to resist this….man before you. It's painstakingly obvious he's inhumane. The Ivory cracked horns were a dead giveaway, but despite that fact you felt….oddly at ease in his presence.

Maybe this was a trick, a ploy to lower your defenses and leave you vulnerable but…there was no escape for you…you were trapped by exhaustion and his intoxicating scent like fresh mint and jasmine, a pleasant mix of herbs that lingered in the air after a rainfall, the scent was oddly comforting, it reminded you of home…of something familiar suddenly the sound of the couch crashing to the floor breaking you from the hypnotic like trance you'd been lulled into by the demon male still holding your waist.

Only now a little tighter, through the caved in door came three more males, each of them resembling the one holding you just slightly different the first male a harpy like being with golden talons sharp as daggers and wings of brown and cream a deep purr rumbled within his chest as he stalked forward with a predatory glint in his eyes that burned gold marked with the same kanji his tongue flickered between his teeth and you caught a glimpse of the kanji joy etched onto his tongue "such a pretty human…" He spoke seductively trailing his talons under your chin, "You smell sweeter than the rest" He cooed gingerly stroking your cheek with his talon covered fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. "You should've eaten her already we deliberately chased her hear for you to finish off what's with the delay." "She certainly is a beauty would be a shame to let such gorgeous specimen go to waste", another male purred emerald green eyes looking you up in down "can I keep her Sekido?" The male clutching your hip asked in such a soft, sweet voice you'd almost forgot he was a demon, the one know as Sekido with the deep scarlet eyes and permeant scowl crossed his muscular arms over his clothed chest.

"No" he hissed with an air of finality "If I let you keep a pet then I have to let Urogi, and Karaku and Urami get one and that would be a pain so either eat her or I will", the male clutched you tighter pulling you away from the other three males "Sekido..I don't ask for much, please….you ley Urogi keep a pet and he killed them in one week"

the known as Urogi chuckled and it was the same chilling laughter that you'd heard earlier "hey, to be fair" he cooed feathers ruffling in delight "I was a bit carless but I'll be gentle with this one she's too pretty to break don't see many exotics out here hehe" "No, you already had one she is mine" the male clutching your hip said in a rather possessive manner as he pulled you closer into his warmth "If your going to keep it then you have to share, that's final" the stern voice of Sekido cut through the air chilling you to the bone as he pinned you down with his piercing crimson orbs.

"That's not fair-" he started holding you tightly between his arms in a protective manner from the two who we're eyeing you like a tasty treat but Sekido cut him off "Aizetsu this isn't up for debate be thankful I'm even considering letting you keep it" he seethed stamping his golden staff on the ground, suddenly the air felt charged as Aizetsu let out a deep sigh tickling your neck "fine, I'll share" "hehe good I call dibs on playing with her first" Karaku sang reaching for you with groping hands but Aizetsu scooped you up gently and delivered a powerful blow to Karaku's chest sending him flying into a wall.

"Since she was intended for me, she's more my pet than yours which means I get to spend time with her first", he says cradling you bridal style his arms so strong and yet he held you as if you were made of glass or porcelain, you swallow nervously at the prospect of being the play thing of not one but four demons somehow sensing your nervousness Aizetsu leaned his head to yours gingerly nuzzling it "Don't worry little one" he whispered in an charismatic tender manner "we'll be very careful with you" his lips brushing against your ear sending chills through your spine "I'll protect you"

#aizetsu x reader #karaku x reader #sekido x reader #urogi x reader #demon slayer #african american

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nik-the-bik · 3 years

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TGS CHAPTER 11 COVER GOT ME LIKE

#the glass scientists #tgs jasper #jasper kaylock #THE RETURN OF THE KING #!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#the second one is me hyperventilating in glee

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get-your-fics · 2 years

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Please more angst from Edward’s side, I need PAIN

Hellfire

Pairing: Edward Nashton x dark!detective!reader

Word count: 563

Warnings: Violence, sadism, blood, torture, abuse of power, non-con elements

A/N: oh, more angst you say? be careful what you ask for ;)

The brass knuckles collided with Edward’s cheek again, pummeling the already tender flesh. He could feel the skin splitting from the impact of the metal, but he stifled the scream that threatened to come out, managing only to emit a weak grunt instead.

He slumped over in his chair, hanging his head. He’d expected to get roughed up during his arrest (he knew better than anyone just how corrupt the GCPD were), but this seemed excessively and unnecessarily cruel.

The detective grabbed his chin and forced him to look up at her. He could see wet blood shining on her brass knuckles. “You have such a pretty face, Ed.” She stroked his cheek, swollen and bruised from her abuse. “Tell me what you’re planning, or I’d hate to mess it up even more than I already have.”

His head lolled to reel back before he spat at her. She flinched as blood splattered against her crisp, white button-up. He shot her a lopsided smirk. “You’re going to have to do worse than that.”

She smiled back at him like a predator showing off its razor sharp teeth. From the look on her face, she’d taken his words as a challenge, one she gladly accepted.

She leaned her hip against the metal table in front of him. She reached down and grabbed one of his hands handcuffed to the table. “You know, you have nice hands.” She almost seemed mesmerized as she caressed his skin, and the feeling made him retract into himself. She looked up at him. “It’d be a shame if something happened to them.”

Before he could even fully comprehend what she meant, she grabbed his index finger and twisted.

White hot pain ignited his nerve endings as she broke the bone. Edward thought that he was too exhausted to scream any more, but the inhuman shriek that filled the room didn’t even sound like it came from him. His back arched as he gritted his teeth, nearly biting his tongue off in the process.

Fuzzy dots formed over his vision as he hyperventilated, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked down at his mangled finger. It was hanging at an odd angle from the rest of his hand and already starting to turn blue. This detective had it out for him.

He looked up at her through his blurry gaze, blinking back his tears. “You can’t do that!”

“I can do whatever I want.” She crossed her ankles. “You’re lucky I’m the one in here with you. Some of these other guys wouldn’t hesitate to waste you the second you got out of line.” She thumbed at the one way glass over her shoulder.

He glanced over at the glass. He wondered how many people were on the other side of it, watching his torture with glee. He guessed that was what he got for killing the commissioner.

She held his hand up to her face and took his broken finger into her mouth. She made eye contact with him as she sucked, hollowing her cheeks. He gripped the edge of the table with his free hand and hissed at the dull ache in his throbbing finger.

She removed the digit from her mouth with an obscene pop, his skin glistening with her saliva. “Now,” she smirked at him, hellfire in her eyes, “which finger should I do next?”

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silkling · 3 years

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Hi Silkling, could you please write a TFP story where Sierra discovers the Autobot's secret and joins up with Team Prime? TFP never really did much with her, and I think that a shame. I think Smokescreen would make a good partner for her.

Absolutely! Great to see you again in my ask box! :D your last prompt was super fun to write to, so I’m looking forward to this one! Now, I admit, I never paid much attention to Sierra, and the show didn’t give us a lot to work with, so I’m going to have to come up with some of her characterization. And I agree. So I’m mashing her with Smokescreen. It’s gonna a be great. I love Smokescreen very much! I even have a whole AU of my own for him. He’s a tiny happy dumbass and since Sierra has basically no canon personality, I can make her be his long-suffering but still very fond best friend.

———————————————————————————————————

Sierra had been having a good day. Emphasis on the word had. It was the weekend. She had packed a small picnic, grabbed her favorite book, and hopped on her bike. She’d ridden out to the popular hiking trails, intending to take a short hike and finding a nice place to spend the afternoon with a her novel and her snacks. The sun was out, the weather was great, and she had nothing to do today. It was perfect. So, of course, the laws of the universe demanded that something go wrong.

‘Murphy is a cruel bastard and and I’m going to punch him in the face when I see him in the afterlife.’ She thought viciously, staring up at the hulking titan that had just crushed her lunch and bike under a single massive metal foot with a sense of numb disbelief. ‘At least I still have the book.’ She ignored how the thought echoed with a note of hysteria as she shoved said book into the messenger bag over her shoulder.

“Are you Sierra O’Niell?”

She was only slightly surprised when the massive robot spoke. Because why wouldn’t the giant robot that had just moments ago been a jet be able to speak? Honestly, what even was her life at this point. She was more concerned with the fact that the thing knew her name. Her initial instinct was the demand how it knew her name. But she’d seen the movies. She knew that would only confirm it’s suspicions.

“Who?” she forced herself to ask instead, surprising herself with how steady her voice was. It was the shock, she told herself. It had to be. It was making her emotionally numb. “What are you?”

The robot seemed startled, before it snarled something that was most definitely a curse. It started speaking, though not to her, and it took Sierra a moment to realize it must have been talking over some sort of built in communication system. “-wrong human, Soundwave! This pathetic fleshling you pointed out to me doesn’t even know who I am talking about.” It paused. “What do you mean it’s not the wrong human? I just told you-“ it cut itself off. “Ah. I see.” A sinister grin twisted at metallic features. “Thank you, Soundwave. I will return with my prize shortly.”

Oh, Sierra did not like the sound of that.

Sure enough, the robot turned to face her when it was done. “It seems you lied to me, little fleshling.” it sneered. “My associate tracked the signal of your personal communications device. You humans never go without it, I’ve been told.”

She blinked. “You hacked my phone?” she sputtered, and oops, she’d just confirmed her identity. ‘Stupid, Sierra.’

It’s face twisted into a cruel expression of glee. She did not like it. “Indeed.” It began bending down, and then a large hand was reaching towards her. “You shall be coming with me, human. Soundwave has seen how Jackson Darby is fond of you.” it purred. “You will make a lovely bargaining chip against that pathetic human runt and his Autobot protectors.”

And wait, this was because of Jack? How did he come into all this? If this thing was after her because of him, that had to mean he knew about it and it’s…friends. Did robots have friends? She didn’t know. And wait, Autobot?

She stiffened, scrabbling away from the large metallic hand, shunting those questions to the back of her mind to be answered later. Escape the terrifying metal monster now, murder Jack for pulling her into this later. Clearly though, the robot disliked her attempt to flee because it only growled and stepped towards her again.

That’s when she heard the roaring of a powerful engine. It made the robot pause too, and they both looked to where the sound came from. Then, over the crest of a hill, a white and blue sports car came flying in. It had red accents and bold 38s painted onto its doors. Sierra was impressed. She was no car person, but even she liked this one. Only, the car started breaking apart once it hit the ground, unfolding and growing into the form of, you guessed it, another robot.

Sierra despaired for her luck. ‘Murphy is going to die a second time for this. He’d better be prepared.’ She thought with vicious hysteria.

Except, to her great surprise, the new robot didn’t try to help capture her. No, instead it rammed full force into the tall jet robot that had tried to snatch her up. Said jet yelped before quickly getting back to its feet. Sierra heard the should of metal and gears shifting, and saw the newcomer’s large hand change to some sort of weapon, though not one she could recognize.

“Terrorizing humans now, Starscream?” it taunted. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you always were one to sink so low.”

The first robot, Starscream, apparently, snarled in outrage. “Pathetic Autobot!” it roared, and oh, so this newcomer was Autobot?

Except, from the two names she’d heard already, that didn’t sound like the type of name these robots seemed to have. She did notice the little face badges they wore, the white bot bearing a red one proudly on its shoulders while the jet robot wore a smaller, pointier face on its chest. So maybe those had something to do with the whole ‘Autobot’ thing? Hell if she knew. Sierra was clever, and she’d always been good at puzzles and mystery solving, but she didn’t have enough information for this whole…thing.

“I’m not the one who’s picking on defenseless humans, ‘Con!” the car robot barked, smirking at the skinnier jet.

The jet only snarled, lifting an arm that she was just noticing had a freaking missile attached to it, and the white robot stilled briefly, before shooting her a frantic look and oh, would you look at that, she seemed to be right in the blast radius of the missile, and oh god she was going to die-

Except, there was that shifting sound again, but much larger, and then car robot was leaping towards her. It hit the ground in car form, it’s driver door open as it slid sideways in her direction, and then she was swept up into it and the door slammed shut. Tires squealed, and then they were peeling away to the sound of a missile screaming and impacting where they had been a half second before. The jet roared in outrage, but the car robot was speeding straight towards civilization, and it seemed to want to avoid that because when she glanced at the rear view mirror she saw it leap into the sky and transform before flying away.

Sierra slowly sat up from her ungainly sprawl, pulling the seatbelt across her chest on reflex before sitting back against the driver’s seat and wheezing. Her heartbeat, which she only just noticed had been thundering wildly in her chest, started to slowly calm, and she had to force herself to take deep, even breaths to keep herself from hyperventilating.

Now, Sierra wasn’t an irrational girl. She was among the top students of all her classes, she was smart, she knew a lot about various topics, and she had a good understanding of how people worked. She was clever, she knew she had a good head on her shoulders. She kept some of her interests closer to her chest, and she played the good, polite, quiet girl for the adults, because she wasn’t without manners, thank you very much. All that meant, though, was that she wasn’t prone to screaming in terror and running like a madman when she was freaked out by something. She would prefer to understand something rather than be irrationally terrified of it.

This, though? This was a bit much, even for her. As her heartbeat calmed, a sense of nausea built in her throat. “Excuse me, robot?” she squeaked. She wasn’t even sure if she could communicate with it while it was in car mode, but it was worth a shot.

“It’s Smokescreen.”

What?

“What?”

“My name is Smokescreen. Not “robot”.”

It sounded miffed. Which, okay. That was fair. If someone called her just “human” she’d probably be upset too. Hell, she had been upset when that other one, Starscream, had called her a “fleshling”. Smokescreen’s voice also sounded very male, and she paused before asking.

“And you’re not an “it” either, then?”

“No, I’m a mech.” A pause. “Uh, a male, by your definitions.”

“Okay. Smokescreen. Well, I’m Sierra, and as grateful as I am for your rescue you should really, really stop and let me out. Humans don’t handle extreme stress very well and I’m about to be sick.”

“Sick?”

Oh god, did robots even get sick?

“I’m about to vomit. Which means I am very close to expelling internal body waste, and it will be right in your seats if you don’t let me out so I can barf behind some rocks.” she informed him tightly, fighting down a gag.

There was a brief moment if silence as Smokescreen seemed to process her words, before he turned off the side of the road, drove behind some rocks, and popped open the door. “Please don’t be sick in me.” Oh, now he sounded sick. Sierra felt a little bad.

She didn’t say anything to that, instead stumbling out of the car and out of sight, before promptly bending over and tossing her breakfast. She gagged on bile, and after a moment of pause to make sure there was nothing left in her stomach, she stood and made her way back to where Smokescreen was waiting. She pulled her water bottle from her bag, taking a sip and washing out her mouth with it before spitting it to the side, and then she proceeded to drink everything left in the bottle. She tucked it away, turning to her impromptu ride, and opened her mouth to speak, when-.

“Oh slag.” He beat her to the punch.

She was confused, recognizing that as a curse of some sort, and then she heard the beeping from his radio.

“Um, hold on for a minute, alright? I gotta take this.” He sounded anxious, and didn’t give her a chance to answer before there was a click as he did just that.

She heard muffled noises over the radio, though she couldn’t make out the words being said.

“Um, yeah. There was a ‘Con signal. I was close so I checked it out.”

More radio noises, angry sounding ones.

“I know, I know! But I was closest and no one would pick up their comm. so I thought I should st least check it out! It was a good thing too, Starscream was there and he was about to snatch up a human!”

A pause, and then an explosion of garbled noise from the radio. Sierra got the feeling that Smokescreen was wincing.

“Well what was I supposed to do? Let her be taken? Plus she’d already seen him so it wasn’t like seeing me was going to do much damage!”

A growling noise, followed by a hiss of static.

“Yes, Ratchet. I know. And I am sorry, alright! I know I went against code again but if I had waited a human would’ve been in Deception hands and as new as I am to this planet, even I know that’s bad!”

Wait, planet? Was this giant ass robot an actual alien? That…honestly made sense. With that day she’d had, she wasn’t even surprised. Smokescreen was still having his discussion with…whoever was on the other end.

“Yes, I’ll bring her back to base. I’m not going to apologize for saving her, though.”

More angry static.

“Yeah yeah. I get it.”

He sounded tired, defeated. Sierra felt bad, and wondered what was being said to make him sound like that when he’d been so bright before.

“No, you don’t need to send a ground bridge. I’m close to the base anyway. I’ll be there soon.”

There was a click as Smokescreen disconnected from whoever called him, and then she could tell he was talking to her when he spoke next. “Mind hopping in? I gotta bring you back to base. The boss can explain everything. I promise you won’t be hurt or anything.”

Sierra hesitated for a moment, then sighed. She knew she probably shouldn’t, but at this point what was the harm? Besides, her gut instinct was telling her that, based on what that Starscream character had said about Jack, she wouldn’t have to worry about being hurt. Not if Darby spent all his free time around these weird alien robots and came back fine. Mind decided, she slipped into the car’s open door. It shut on its own, and she buckled herself in once more.

“Thanks.” He sounded grateful. And then he was driving off.

He wasn’t saying anything, and neither was Sierra, and she let herself be alone with her thoughts. They drove for a while, and Sierra let herself enjoy the landscape that passed by Smokescreen’s window. He really was a nice ride, she mused. Sleek and fast, and his engine purred quietly as he drove along the highway. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew his car mode was a good one.

Soon enough, they were coming towards a large mesa. Smokescreen drove right toward its side, not even slowing as he approached, Sierra tensed, about to protest, when a previously invisible door opened in the rock face. She shut her mouth, her eyes blowing wide. Oh. That explained that. Their base was hidden in plain sight. Which…she supposed was fitting, for alien robots who disguised themselves as cars and jets. Smokescreen took them through a tunnel, and then they were coming into a large central chamber. Sierra peeked out if the window to see two other robots there. One, stocky and painted in red and white. The other…was absolutely massive. He towered above the red and white bot, and she had a feeling he’d tower over Smokescreen too. He was broad as he was tall, with wide shoulders and a heavy looking chest, his metal armor painted in red and blue. Sierra didn’t know how she knew, but she just knew that this large one was a he, a mech, as Smokescreen had said.

The door at her side popped open, and after brief hesitation she unbuckled herself and stood up. There was that sound of transformation behind her, and she glanced back to see Smokescreen rising to his feet in his robot mode. Then a voice spoke and she snapped her head around to see the large bot speaking.

“Greetings, young one. My name is Optimus Prime. My companion is Ratchet, and you have already met Smokescreen.”

Ratchet. That’s who Smokescreen had been talking to earlier. “I’m Sierra.” she said after a moment. “Sierra O’Niell.”

Optimus tilted his head downwards in her direction. “May I inquire why Starscream was attempting to abduct you, if you know?”

“You’re very polite.” she remarked dryly. “He said something about wanting to use me to get to Jack Darby, so that he could in turn use Jack to get to the “Autobots”. I’m guessing that’s you guys?”

Optimus shared a look with Ratchet, then looked back at her. “Indeed. Myself and my team are Autobots. Starscream is a Decepticon. Our factions are enemies, I am afraid.” he explained. “We are not from your world, Sierra O’Niell. We hail from a planet called Cybertron. Our two factions were at War on our home, and that War destroyed our world. The Deceptions came here, searching for energon, and we have followed them to keep them from destroying your planet and it’s people in their quest for it.”

Sierra turned that over. She’d guessed they weren’t from Earth, so that wasn’t a surprise. The rest of the information was new, though. And appreciated. “What’s energon? And how does Jack fit into all this?”

Optimus sighed. “Energon is an energy source, and the very lifeblood of every Cybertronian.” he explained. “It is a natural resource that was once common on our home, and somehow Earth too produces it in great abundance.” he explained. “Jackson, Miko, and Raphael became involved with us by accident. They were seen with my Autobots when they mistakenly were pulled into a battle with the Decepticons, and the Decepticons assumed they were our allies. In order to protect them, we took them under our watch and guard to ensure they could not be harmed.”

So, Esquivel and Nakadai were part of this too. She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d seen the cars that picked those two up, now that she thought of it. Speaking of which….

“Jack’s motorcycle is an Autobot, isn’t it? And Miko and Raphael’s cars?”

Optimus hummed. “Indeed. Arcee, Bumblee, and Bulkhead were the ones to initially partner with and save the children in that first encounter. After they were brought into the fold, it made only sense to assign them as their Autobot guardians.”

Sierra nodded as she took that all in. Then she frowned. “I’m involved now too, aren’t I? I would have been involved regardless, if the Decepticons were really after me, but Smokescreen saving me just means my involvement is going to be more pleasant than it otherwise would have been.”

Optimus and Ratchet shared yet another look, before casting their gazes to Smokescreen. The white bot fidgeted under their combined stares, head ducking and looking uncomfortable. “While we are not pleased that the youngling acted on impulse and charged into battle against protocol, we are pleased that he saved your life, young Sierra.” Optimus said after a moment.

Sierra blinked. “Youngling.” she repeated in confusion. Then she narrowed her eyes. “You’re not getting him into trouble for saving me, are you?” she asked heatedly. The very idea insulted her.

Optimus twitched as if startled, then rumbled a soft chuckle. “Youngling, yes. It is a term used by Cybertronians to refer to those of us who are not yet fully grown. Smokescreen is the equivalent of a human teenager.” he explained. “And worry not. In this instance, we can overlook the breach in regulations. It would send a poor message to punish a bot for upholding the Autobot creed.”

Sierra relaxed at that, nodding. Then she narrowed her eyes. “I’m going to want to have a discussion with you later about why you’re letting teenagers fight in a war, but I know now isn’t the time.” she said threateningly.

Both older bots startled back and her tone and words, and Smokescreen squeaked from behind her. She turned and drew a harsh line across her mouth before he could say anything, and she watched as he stared, slack-jawed, before closing his mouth with an audible clack. That done, she returned her attention to the apparent leader. There was one more thing she wanted settled.

“You said the others got guardians, right?”

A nod.

“Well, if I’m going to need one, and something tells me I will, then I want this one.” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Smokescreen.

Optimus’s eyes narrowed in what she realized was a faint smile. “If Smokescreen agrees, then I have no issues with that.” he hummed. “All I ask is that you remain here until our liaison with the human government arrives. Agent Fowler will want to discuss some matters with you before you return home.”

Sierra blinked. So the government knew about all this. That was good to know. It meant she wouldn’t get in trouble for conspiring with aliens if it ever came to light. She could also understand why they kept this whole thing a secret, even if governments hiding things from the public wasn’t always a good thing. In this case, it was a good thing.

“As long as I’m home before my curfew.” she agreed.

Another bow of that great head, and then Optimus was turning to stride away. Presumably to make contact with this Fowler. That left her and Smokescreen with Ratchet.

The stocky bot glanced at them, then turned to that odd console she’d noticed earlier. “Smokescreen will show you around.” Was all he said, waving them away with a dismissive flip of his hand.

Sierra, taking that as her cue, turned to the youngest bot. She thrust out her hand. “What do you say? Partners?”

He seemed confused, before slowly crouching and extending his hand to tap a finger to her palm. “Yeah, sure.” he seemed a little awed that she’d want to partner with him.

She smiled. “Good. In that case, why don’t you give me a ride and show me around your base?”

Smokescreen seemed confused. “Ride?”

“On your shoulder. I’d like to see it from your perspective.”

He blinked, then shrugged and put his hand, palm up, on the floor. Sierra took that as her que to climb up, and he carefully transferred her to his shoulder. Cool. Very cool. She just wanted to ride on the giant alien robot, and now she got to. That was cool.

She saw him look at her out of the corner of his bright, shining blue eyes, and she smiled warmly. “Well? Show me around your home, big guy. I’d like to get to know you.”

Smokescreen perked up, the little protrusions on his back wiggling with his apparent joy, and Sierra grinned a little wider. Oh, he was cute. How a giant robot could be endearing, she didn’t know, but he did it. He was sort of like a puppy. A giant, metal, alien puppy. She held on as he started walking, and she listened with half an ear, processing and noting what he told her as the rest of her mind turned over the events of her day.

It had been stressful, and scary, but now that it was all done and she was fine…

‘Yeah.’ she thought, watching her new partner eagerly show her around the small, hidden base he called home. ‘I think I’m gonna like it here.’

———————————————————————————————————

And that was that! I hoped you like it! It was fun to write. The show didn’t give Sierra a last name or a real personality, so I had to kind of do that bit myself. And I was right! I did enjoy writing this. The prompt inspired me to write this faster than I thought I’d be able to. I do not expect to be able to fill a prompt this quickly again. Unfortunately. Also, Sierra is definitely going to be the straight man to Smokescreen. He’s going to need it. Badly.

Until next time, friends!

#silkling request fics #request fic #tfp #transformers prime #tfp sierra #tfp starscream #tfp smokescreen #smokescreen #tfp optimus prime #Sierra joins Team Prime #smokescreen is her partner #maccadam

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gaitwae · 3 years

Text

It’s Fate •||• Loki x Reader

WORD COUNT: 3025

Loki stepped into the shadows of the forest, holding his breath and melting into his armor. He wasn’t sure if it was even worth it to go into the Forest of Ydraggsil. But the cosmos were born there, in the “branches” he had been taught about. Loki knew that the answer to his very soul was written in the songs the ruffling leaves sang. His heart hammered in his rib cage as he let out a shaky breath.

He scratched his palms with worry, closing his eyes in thought. He could prove that he was his brother’s equal . . . worthy of being more than just a Jotun. No matter what Odin had said, no matter what Frigga said, he was just not what either of them said. He couldn't be what Frigga had thought he was. He wasn’t even close enough to be as good as she thought. He was much more than Odin had said. Loki could prove that. He just needed to know...

Would it be worth it if he couldn’t?

Child, a beautiful voice of the Norns whispered. That startled him. The Norns were silent, spoke in riddles and curses. But he could just. . . . Tell. He hadn’t expected to hear that. She continued, What brings you to where souls are born and fate is scripted?

Loki swallowed, stepping in to the wood. “Uncertainty,” he says meekly, eyes welling with tears. “And losing the will . . . the will to live.” He sank to his knees. “I beg of you, help me find my place in the world.”

He knew that it was selfish to ask the Norns to give him things, things that not even they could change. He would be cursed for such confident brattiness. He held his head high in the sky, watching the cosmos conflict, purple and blue and green explode and tear at each other. Green smoke curled around his body. Loki had to refrain from panicking, trying his hardest not to scream in fear, not to sob from the pain of his broken soul.

The leaves rustled. He breathed deeply, his heart rate painfully fast. His neck hurt from the rush of blood. His heart kept crying out in the lonely longing for companionship.

Just a place in the world? Nothing else? She sounded. . . . Expectant. Like men who had braved the branches before had always asked for proud things. Wisdom; strength; a lady’s hand. Loki just wanted not to be alone.

A tear slips from his eye. “Give me my glory back. . . . Give me someone who will love me. . . .”

Loki Laufeyson, the Norns whispered with a reassuring tone, you’ll find someone who loves you. It’s fate.

Loki swallowed, gasping some. That was a lie; wasn’t it? It had to be. He wiped his eyes. He sat there, staring at the ground. One day, he would. One day. He tried to swallow his fears. But it didn’t work.

The cosmos rippled again, a woman’s laugh ringing through his ears. Not the Norn who had spoke, it wasn’t Hers. This laugh. . . . It stung. Loki covered his ears. No one he cared for loved him back. He started to hyperventilate. The laughing got louder and louder.

No. No. “Please. . . . Make it stop,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. The smoke curled around his body. His skin turned blue.

“You’re a dirty, evil Jotun,” Thor’s voice taunted somewhere. Loki stood, looking around for his brother. “Did you really believe that the Norns would help you?”

“Stop this illusion!” he pleaded. Loki spun around, hoping to find something. This had to be a lie. “Stop!”

“What illusion, my son? You’re seeing the truth,” Odin called, coming from a different direction. He turned toward the sound, hoping that his father wouldn’t scoff at him, punish him. Tears fell faster. Streamed. His father’s cold voice.

“Father—,” Loki tried, caving in and panicking.

“I��m not your father!” Loki flinched, raising his arms in protection as he stumbled back from the invisible people pushing him.

“No!” Loki cried. “NO!”

---------- -*- ----------

I sat bolt right up in my bed, chest heaving and sweat drenching my body. I looked over to my side. A beautiful woman. My panic melted quickly, but my fears didn’t. I was next to my fiancée. She gently pushed me back down.

“Loki, shhh,” she soothed. “It was all a dream. You’re safe.” I rested my head on her shoulder. She ran her hands through my hair affectionately.

“Oh, Bryleigh,” (Bry-lee) I sigh, hugging her gently. “It was the same dream as last time. . . . With th-the forest . . . you have no idea—”

Her hazel eyes and blonde hair were strangely lit from the moonlight in the window. I had never been more grateful for her. I sigh again, kissing her once, twice, three times. Bryleigh pulled away, resting her forehead against mine.

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep. I love you,” she said, rubbing my back. “We have to both work tomorrow, so we should go back to sleep.” I nodded in agreement. I would have to explain to my secretary, (Y/N) why I was late.

Oh, no. I sat up. I practically scrambled to get dressed. “Honey, what are you doing?” Bryleigh asked. I checked my cellphone. Truly a magical mortal instrument, the cellular telephone. 2:35. I still had thirty minutes.

“Picking (Y/N) up at the airport,” I said, my tongue between my teeth as pull on a shirt. “I lost a bet, so I had to chauffeur her to and from her flight.” I laughed, face hot from remembering her smile. Oh, (Y/N) was adorable. Like my little sister. And I didn’t have to actually chauffeur her; I just wanted to. But Bryleigh wouldn’t have let me.

“Wait; the trip she went on that you funded for her birthday? You spoil her, Loki,” she says, voice riddled with distaste. She sat up in bed. I rolled my eyes.

“Bryleigh, she’s going to be my best woman.” I pulled on my shoe and grabbed my keys on the nightstand. “You better get used to the godmother of your children being around my house.” Bryleigh gaped, looking at me with an offense with an origin I couldn’t place.

“What?” I ask.

“Since when is that bi—” I cut her off, giving her a glare. Good feeling gone. I truly adored my fiancée, but I simply could not stand it when she picked on (Y/N). Especially when she did that.

“Biiiiii-eautiful woman I have adopted as my sister,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “I’m sick of you acting like a jerk to her.”

Bryleigh flopped back down. I kissed her forehead goodbye. “If you loved me, Loki, you’d see she's just evil!” She smiled softly and tiredly. I rolled my eyes.

“Evil? That is a new one,” I comment, kissing her and rushing out the door. Before our bedroom door closed, I heard her scoff. Something in me stirred, both at the thought of Bryleigh making nasty statements about (Y/N), and (Y/N) herself.

-----skip-----

“Flight from [Place you've wanted to visit] now unloading at Platform 9.”

The PA announcements seemed to fly by since the time I got there, but that one I paid attention to. I was almost eager to find her. I was speeding past every person I passed, even doing 360s to see if I could locate her. Her smile, her hands, ruffling her hair.

I passed through crowds, hearing the TSA yelling at someone, kids crying—or was it the other way around?— and twisting and weaving through people to Platform 9. “Where could she be?” I whisper to myself.

Something about all this turning reminded me about going to the Forest of Ydraggsil. But without all the fright; just really confusing and overwhelming and something missing. I didn’t mind. My heart was pounding with excitement. (Y/N) would be in this building somewhere.

“Loki!” I heard her call. I got reminded of my dream, but it didn’t scare me as much as it should have.

I whipped around, beaming when I saw her. She had a rolling suitcase and messy hair; she must have fallen asleep on the plane. I ran to her, lifting her up. She dropped her suitcase as I held her. I spun her with glee.

“You missed me that much, Loki?” She wrapped her arms around my neck, standing closely when I set her down. It was probably because my arms were still around her. (Y/N)’s hands rested within my elbows as she unwrapped her arms.

“Of course, I missed you. Who do you take me for?” I laughed softly, my head spinning slightly as I realized just how tired I was. I also realized that I didn’t care. About anything.

I didn’t care about how mad I had made Bryleigh. I didn’t care about the time. I just wanted. . . .

Oh, no.

But I just couldn’t stop smiling. (Y/N) was the only thing I could see. I was here, with her, no where else.

“I kinda took you for a stubborn prince,” she joked, hands moving again to my shoulders. “You know, the kind that didn’t pick favorites without doing it so subtly, and throwing knives, and doing favors reluctantly. Not picking up your secretary because she asked you to at three in the morning and taking you away from your fiancée.”

“I don’t care what she thinks,” I blurt. She blushed, and so did I. But I stupidly kept going. “I don't want to marry her.”

She stepped out of my arms. “Loki, what are you talking about?” I grew idiotically confident, taking her hands. “Loki?”

“I was such a fool,” I laugh, looking at her. I press the heel of my hand to my forehead. “I’m not in love with her.”

It was all clicking into place, now. The constant dreams of looking for her. The wedding dreams, too, with her in white. It wasn’t just paranoia. And all the times I would feel that awful knot in my gut when she spoke of other men. I gaze into her eyes.

“It’s you.”

She shook her head, “Loki, I — I can’t just—”

“(Y/N) you can’t pretend that you don’t feel this,” I continue. I bring her luggage out with her. “Actually, it all makes sense now.” But as much as I’m grinning, she’s only standing in shock.

“Darling?”

Your POV

Okay. Seeing Loki was already amazing. But now you were sure that one of you had gone crazy, or that you were dreaming.

“What? Loki, you can’t just say things like that!” You felt your face heat up at the delirious Loki’s practically random confession. Your hands and legs were shaking. Yes, you loved him, too, but what about Bryleigh? They had sent wedding invitations already!

“Why not? Better now than in a month, (Y/N),” he said. He opened the door for you. You got in his car. He definitely looked crazed, loopy. But he was happy.

You study him for a second, a thought coming to light almost immediately. He seemed carefree, distracted. He revved up the engine and grinned at you. You knew exactly what he seemed like to you, now that you thought on it.

He was like a bachelor.

“You didn’t!” you gasp. “You didn’t break up with her, did you?!”

“No, but I will. Even if you decide you don’t want me as a friend or a romantic partner. The only person who I can imagine marrying would be you.” He laughs, driving you to your house. You gape at Loki. He really had gone mad.

Not only was he head over heels with you out of the blue, he thought he would marry you. Or, at least he wanted to. Your heart sank.

It all made sense now.

“Loki,” you say quietly. “I’m seeing Steve. From economics.” You ducked your head. He loved you. And you couldn’t see him as anything more than a friend, or a brother. You fiddled with your shirt’s hem.

Loki frowned some, but quickly regained his smile. Except it was fake. You could tell so easily. You shifted in the passenger seat, watching cars pass by. “Oh,” he whispers. “I understand.” You hated this, but you really preferred not to lie.

“I’m so sorry, Loki,” you mumbled. You hugged yourself. You wanted him happy, but you couldn’t be with him. It was the worst kind of lie. “We became an item about three weeks back but I asked him to keep quiet about it. I didn't want to cause any gossip.”

Loki nodded. “No, I totally understand. . . . I was meant to be alone. It’s fate.” His bottom lip quivered. You felt your heart break for your best friend. Then you wondered if he had been dreaming again. He had nightmares that Bryleigh made worse, and you were the only one he could tell them about. Really tell. You felt warm inside. He really was in love with you.

“Loki—,” you try.

“My immortal life was just . . . the worst. Now my mortal one is mirroring it,” he sighs. He gripped the wheel. Tightly. You saw his knuckles turn paper white. “I became cursed by the Norns. I made a mistake.”

“Loki, please, I am sure that you will find someone who will love you,” you try. You felt something in the back of your head tell you that this was a mistake, letting him go. But it was fate. You knew it. Loki was someone you felt for in the past. Never again.

“You know who I want,” he says. “This time, I won’t settle for something lesser.” He stared at the road. “I’m not getting any younger.”

Something lesser?

“Loki, really,” you sigh, “I’m not fantastic.”

“Steve sure thinks you are.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You growl, “That's low, even for you.” Loki doesn’t answer, just scoffing quietly.

You huff and cross your arms. Fiddle with the seat belt. “Just marry Bryleigh, okay? What do I care!” That came out harsher than you meant. Oops.

Loki pulled the car over so roughly you almost hit your head on the window. “Excuse me?” He turned to you. “What did you mean by that?” You felt your heart speed, but you had already turned him down.

“Just—take—me—home,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Tell me what that was about,” he protested. Loki rested his arm on the middle compartment, making you face him. Now you wanted to get mad at him and yourself. But he wasn’t your life, and he wasn’t ever going to be yours.

So who cared?

“It meant nothing,” you lie. “Nothing at all.” You shift in your seat, again. Look away from him. All the feelings you used to feel came rushing back, but without the affection they used to hold. You felt bitter about loving him before. A man who was engaged to be married. Now he could feel it, too.

“Oh, sure. You never told me you didn’t want me married, (Y/N).” He had flipped a switch. He went from giddy to hurt within seconds. But saying something as sudden and intimate as “I don’t want you to get married but I’m seeing someone else” would have to hurt anyone.

“Because at least you were happy, Loki!”

“I wasn’t, you knew that!”

“I don’t want to fight about your witch fiancée,” you grumble. “Take me home, Loki. I’ll resign in the morning.” You sit back, watching through the window the rest of the ride. This would need to be solved, but in what way, you didn’t know.

------------(:V)------------

You stepped out into a clearing. You saw Loki dressed in his armor—something he hadn’t worn since New York. Green smoke billowed around your feet. You couldn’t move anything, no matter how much you tried to run and help him. He was screaming about being sorry, apologizing to whomever was laughing and telling him he’d never know love.

You couldn’t scream. Couldn’t get him. You wanted him.

“Please, I just want someone—!” He was cut off by his own cry of fright. He fell to the ground. You hated feeling so helpless. No. No, you needed to help him. The smoke surrounding the both of you covered Loki, and then—

You sat up, horrified. You were going to be late. Loki would—

Loki. Right. You had fought with him the night before. He probably wouldn’t want to see you. . . . Unless that was a dream. Again. You sigh. No matter what you had told him last night, you weren’t seeing Steve. And you were in love with him.

You picked up the phone. There was only really one thing to do.

“Hello?” he answered tiredly. He sounded like someone who had been crying, or losing significant amounts of sleep. He also had a tone of worry in his voice. You felt your heart skip.

“I love you,” you say. You were rushing to get the wires out. “I don’t want you to marry Bryleigh. I’m sorry for everything I told you last night and I don’t care if you remember none of it; you deserve to know. I’m in love with you, I always have been, Bryleigh is and always was someone who was just so much better than I am, and even though I think you two can be happy together, I want you to myself!”

Just before you hang up from fear of his long silence, he says, “Wait, wait. You said you were seeing Steve. . . . I’m so confused. . . . Bryleigh walked out last night, calling the wedding off, anyway. I’m not getting married.”

You sat there for a minute. “What? Why?”

“Apparently I spent more time talking about you than she liked,” he explained. “But I’m not sure if I should anymore?”

“No. No, Loki, that’s great. I mean—it’s not great, but you didn’t have to break up with her. . . . I just . . . spent so long thinking about what you said. You were right: it is fate.”

He sniffs on the other end. “You picked a fantastic time to tell me, (Y/N).” He laughed. “For the record: I think you’re right. It is fate.”

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #gaitwae writes #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki of asgard #loki god of mischief #loki mcu #mcu loki #loki #mcu #marvel

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

love is in the air | bakugou k.

— Different worlds, different stories, different beginnings. It didn’t matter what universe you were in because there was one consistency in these worlds: you and Bakugou were always in love. Was it just a coincidence that love is in the air whenever the two of you were involved? No, it was destiny. —

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

warnings: cursing (all), fluff (all), alcohol consumption (story 3)

word count: 3,505

a/n: so this is for my springtime anon for the bnhaclaimedmysoul event!!!! this was written for @brattyquirks !!!! anyways, I couldn’t decide what to write you sab, so I decided to hell with it and gave you four little short stories based off your favorite cliches!!!! I hope you enjoy 🌺

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SPIN THE BOTTLE

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“If you don’t spin the bottle, we’re going to make you kiss Mineta!”

“You can’t make me do shit, raccoon eyes! This’s a fucking brats game anyways, why the hell am I going to play?!”

Your eyes shone with ever-loving glee at the sight of Bakugou, gritting his teeth with his lip pulled up into a snarl. His eyes were focused on Mina, who was waving the bottle in her hand, her face in a full grin while she stared on the peeved ash blond man.

“Because its a staple to a teenager’s life, and apparently no ones played yet!”

“It’s not going to be something I fucking play!”

It often amused you that Mina was one of the only people in the class who wasn’t afraid to play chicken with Bakugou, even more hilarious being that she won the majority of the time.

“Midoriya and Todoroki already took their chances at spinning it once,” Mina sighed, her arms picking up into a shrug while she shook her head. You watched in quiet glee in the way her eyes slowly opened, like some predator corning in on her prey. “But hey, I guess that means you’re not—”

“Give me the fucking bottle!”

And she had won.

Folding your arms, you watched Bakugou break into the circle of students, slamming the glass bottle onto the floor and turning it as quickly as he could, the words “die” announced to the class. You took in the way that his face was set into a frown, the corners of his mouth cemented into this permanent scowl. But you knew that it was for show, even you knew Bakugou better after three years of being his classmate, his eyes always told a different story.

The two of you were pretty close for what could be considered relationships for Bakugou. While you weren’t apart of his core group of friends, the two of you held mutual respect and trust for each other that transcended that of daily interaction. The bottle spun for what seemed like ages, and you watched in hopefulness that it would land on someone good.

Slowly the lip of the bottle landed on Shoji, and Bakugou raged that it wasn’t fair.

Much to Bakugou’s unamusement, to Shoji’s prayers that he wouldn’t be killed, and to the rest of your classmates tear-jerking howling laughter they kissed.

“I’m fucking out of here!” Bakugou screamed, throwing himself to his feet, ready to retreat to his room with the hours of night looming in. “Get this shitty game away from me, I never want to play—”

“You can’t leave yet!” Mina cried out, grabbing his wrist before he could escape the circle, “Y/n-chan is the last one to go, and you have to watch!”

“I don’t fucking care if it was All Mights damn turn, I’m not staying!”

“Come on, Bakugou, it’s not like it’ll take more than ten seconds!” you chide, your nose wrinkling at him in your mock disgust. “What’s the worst that’ll happen? I get to kiss your best friend?”

Bakugou’s nostrils flare, a visible indicator that he took in your words as a challenge of sorts and would follow through with staying. So with a grin, you grabbed the bottle and spun it.

You didn’t really care about who it landed on; after all, most of your classmates had already had strange matchups, the worst being a kiss from Kaminari and Mineta. As long as you didn’t land on Mineta, you’d call that a win. The bottle stilled, and you looked down to where it was pointing.

Bakugou.

His eyes widened, pupils were blown, and his jaw to the floor.

“HELL NO, I JUST KISSED OCTOPUS LIKE HELL I’M GOING TWICE!”

“Oh my god, you big baby,” you laugh, standing up. You reach Bakugou, who looks seconds from fighting, moments from running, yet allowed you to approach him regardless. What a rule-abiding nerd he could be.

“Pucker up,” you tease and seal your lips over his while your classmates scream.

After you pulled away, you hated to admit that your heart hammered in your ears, months of denial over your feelings gone up in flames while he stares at you in silence. Your classmates begin to clean up; no one quite aware of how you were both just staring. But when Mina’s arm is thrown around your shoulders, your attention is stolen, and you walk off, ready to help out.

In twenty minutes, you make it back to your room, your lips still tingling in their tiny explosions of the past feeling of his smooth lips against yours. A wistful sigh escaped your lips, you knew better than to expect anything from King Explosion Murder himself.

A knock on the door startled you. Having been caught up in thought, the noise made you curse under your breath. Walking to the door, you opened it up, your eyes widening when you saw Bakugou there, his eyebrows knit, lips pursed.

“You okay, Bakugou?” you asked, concerned for your friend.

He finally meets your gaze, and his stare is intense. Vermillion eyes hold yours without a single waiver in them; it’s intense, almost too intense to the point where you want to look away. But you don’t, you can’t look away. A harsh expel of air escapes his nose, and you’re useless to the way that he surges forward, hands grasping your cheeks and lips crashing against yours.

There’s nothing to say to this, but you can attest to the fact that your hands grabbed his biceps, your lips moving passionately with his until your bedroom door closed behind him.

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BEST FRIENDS BEING IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER

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Days at the lake were something you earnestly enjoyed. The gentle feeling of spring in the air, the sun warm against your skin, and the fresh green plants emerging from the once dead fields. It was perfect, almost tranquil if you were quiet enough.

But if there was anything to know about you and your best friend Bakugou Katsuki, it was that tranquility was something that happened once in a lifetime, and that moment was not now.

“Running away is useless!” Bakugou roared from a distance.

The cold sand flung from your feet while you ran as fast as you possibly could, the oxygen in your veins feeling like fire as you attempted to both run away and laugh at the predicament he was in.

What had started as a fun day at the lake that had finally thawed over from winter winds, turned into something stupidly competitive. You wouldn’t say you were a sore loser because you didn’t lose, but in this case where Bakugou had very obviously beaten you in rock skipping contest because he applied his quirk after you went without using your own. So in your fuming loss, you used your quirk to dump water all over his hair, leaving his hair and shoulder soaked.

His reaction to this was almost feline-like, his back arching, face set in an uproarious hiss while you howled with laughter, already running away. It took him time to respond to your act of war, but with him running like hell was at his heels, it was only a matter of time before he caught up to you.

You screamed for forgiveness, trying with everything you had to escape from his tight and torturous grasp, but you were losing.

“This is what you get for soaking me with water!” Bakugou exclaims, tossing you into the ice-cold water, your shocked and defeated scream echoing across the water until it was drowned out by you going under.

“You’re a dick!” you scream when you reemerge from under the water, fake tears pouring from your eyes, the cold water clinging, and stabbing into your body that was now exposed to the sweet air.

Bakugou looks ashamed right away, and you were sure that he hadn’t expected to have flung you so far into the water, or for you to not land on your feet. “Shit, I’m so — hEY!!!”

With your hands on his wrist, you threw him into the water, his angry screams erupting across the land the moment he reemerged from the lake. So there the two of you stood, thigh-deep into the lake, both soaked to the bone. Hands gripping each other, a feeble attempt at wrestling each other. His wet hair was slick to his forehead, the shine on his face from the water, and his heated words only inciting a fire within you that made you forget that you too were cold.

“You’re the worst!” you yell, trying to shove him forward with your interlaced fingers. “A tiny dildo is what you are!”

“A fucking dildo?! Why the ever-loving fuck would I be—?!”

“Cuz, you’re fake like plastic!!!”

“You’re an idiot, fucking dumbass nerd!”

“Oh yeah, well, you like this dumbass nerd!”

“And what if I do?!”

There was a silence that overcame the both of you, his cheeks simmering to the same degree as yours. In this silence, you weren’t sure what to say, and in a moment where you were unsure of the warmth being from your elation of his words or from your cold body hyperventilating from the cold water, you spoke.

“Do something about it then.”

There was no saying as to how this transpired, honestly it was one of the weakest fake arguments you’ve ever had with Bakugou, but with the rebirth of spring, there must have been something in the air to make his lips come crashing against yours. A wild and powerful force that ignited sparks and explosions within you, and a promise for more between both of you.

You pulled away, your eyes wide and wild, you took in Bakugou’s soft and heavy-lidded eyes and watched as his lips perked into a pleasant smile.

“Took you long enough, dumbass…”

“HOW IS THIS MY FAULT, BAKUGOU KATSUKI?!”

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ACCIDENTAL KISS

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The world was blurry while you brought your hand to your mouth. But where you had been expecting a bottle of whatever alcohol you had been drinking, you were met with nothing but your warm hand.

“Where’s my drink?! Oh no, did I drop… did I drop it?! Bakugou is going to kill me!”

Your typical cheerful and chaotic energy while being drunk had become sad and chaotic energy at the realization that you couldn’t find your drink that you knew you had. And even more so at the thought of the man you had a crush on hating on you for dropping it on the floor.

“What the hell are you wailing about, I have your drink right here, idiot.”

You whip to the side and see that Bakugou is the person holding your hand, guiding you back to your apartment.

“Katsuki, you’re taking me back to my dorm?” you sniffle, tears springing into your eyes at the thought of how kind your crush was being to you. “You didn’t have to do this!”

“Yeah, well, your drunk ass was not walking back home alone, especially not this late at night when weirdos and perverts can be out,” he justified, making sure you avoided the bush when you stumbled against a bump on the floor.

“I’m drunk, huh,” you giggle, pressing into his side, your body warm with the bitter liquid coursing through your veins. “That’s pretty crazy because I distinctly remember only taking… one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nineeeeeee shots! That’s not even that much!”

“Nine shots?! I’m going to kill that drunk idiot when I get back!” Bakugou snarls his arm fastening around your waist when you climb up the stairs, something you don’t understand why he does considering, all in all, you were walking just fine.

“Katsuki, can I confess something to ya?” you hum against his warm shoulder, breathing in his caramel scent with a happy sigh.

“Not if you wouldn’t admit it when you’re sober.”

“Well, that’s no fun to drunken confession and besides!” you slur, slamming your hand against his chest. “I don’t ever make sense.”

“Well, that much is true,” Bakugou sighs, grabbing your keys and opening your apartment door. “Come on, get in.”

You comply without a fight, skipping into your apartment with a stretch.

“Now, now, you get back home and text me when you get back, no funny business young man!” you exclaim, thrusting a finger into his chest, your lips pulled into a serious pout.

“Ya fucking right dumbass, I’m getting your ass into bed before I leave,” Bakugou grunt turning you towards your bathroom to assist you in getting ready for bed.

Within the next thirty minutes, you nearly succeed in getting Bakugou to rip his hair from his scalp. From first refusing to pee unless he was holding your hand, then forbidding to brush your teeth until he hugged you first. Of course, then it was the fact that you walked out butt naked after claiming you didn’t care if he saw you naked, and that you hated the PJs he chose for you. And how he had to chase you around the apartment to get you into bed.

But finally, Bakugou squatted at the edge of your bed, his face close to yours while you took long blinks, sleep catching up to you quickly.

“Goodnight, pain in my ass,” Bakugou says to your nodding off form.

“Thank you for always taking care of me,” you whimper, your hand stretching out to touch his face, the world slowly spinning. “You might act like a bad boy, but it’s okay, I can handle it for moments like this.”

“I don’t know what you’re — mmph!”

Your lips were pressed against his, a kiss that tasted faintly of alcohol on his own lips and the mint of your toothpaste.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips before pulling away, sleep consuming you before Bakugou could speak.

When you woke up the next morning, your body hangover-free, you were shocked and scared to see Bakugou sitting on your chair fast asleep. It wasn’t until he woke up did you genuinely feel fear crawl and bite you in the throat when he spoke up after staring at you for a minute straight.

“So, about last night.”

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FAKE DATING

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“I can’t believe I got stuck with you,” Bakugou grits while the both of you walk around the mall, your fingers dancing along your chin while you check out the clothes in the window.

“Why’s that? Is it because I make your hands sweat, heart skip beats, and make you stammer more than anyone else in the world?” you tease your focus entirely on the outfit in the window, trying to imagine how it would look like on your body instead of the mannequin.

“You know damn well that’s not the fucking case!”

Laughing, you nodded, turning to look at Bakugou with a grin, “Well, I’m sorry you drew the short end of the stick!”

What had started off as a class after school field trip had become ‘where the fuck is everyone?’

It maybe was your fault for dragging Bakugou into the nearest store because you saw the stupidest skull shirt you wanted him to buy and ended up with the two of you coming out of said store, the black skull shirt folded neatly in a bag that Bakugou held, and your classmates were gone. Bakugou had yelled at you for five minutes while you apologized profusely for separating the two of you from the group.

A quick text from Kirishima had stated that everyone went their own ways anyway, but that meet up time at the food court would be at 5:30.

“How do you think that would look on me?” you asked, pointing to the white spring outfit in the window. You had needed more outfits, years of not having anything cute had made you want to try something new with the new spring season.

“Fucking weird,” was Bakugou’s automatic response despite not looking at the outfit.

“Come on, brat, look at it first!”

“Who the hell are you calling brat?” Bakugou grumbled but looked at the white outfit in the window. He was quiet for some time, almost too quiet for how you knew Bakugou was. He looked over at you, his face set seriously, and he sighed. “It would look great on you.”

You smiled widely and nodded, “Okay!”

It took ten minutes for you to find the outfit in your size, to affirm it was a good fit, to buy it, and then to leave the store. Bakugou took the green cream bag from your hand, adding it to the other bags he had been holding for the two of you, and you were grateful.

Grabbing his elbow, you were ready to drag him off to a store he would like better, but you froze when you saw a familiar pair of eyes in the distance.

It was your ex-boyfriend.

It had been a year relationship that started off beautifully and ended disastrously. While you wished you could have concluded that relationship on amicable terms, it ended on something closer to, “I hate you,” and “don’t ever talk to me again,” and “I can find someone better than you any day,” and finally, “you couldn’t find someone to like you back.”

To say the least, you still hadn’t found anyone knew, and your arm firmly locked around Bakugou’s arm, your body stiffening slightly.

Bakugou felt it.

“What the fucks wrong with you?” he asked, his eyebrows knit in confusion, and you looked up at him, your eyes relaying to him everything.

“I see my ex, and I said I would be with someone the next time I saw him,” you whisper, your feet feeling cemented onto the floor as your ex drew nearer and nearer.

Bakugou’s lips twitched, his nose scrunching in his premeditative way of know just what you were going to ask.

“You fucking owe me,” he hissed under his breath, his hand moving to rest on your hip, keeping you close as only lovers do.

“Thank you,” you whispered in graciousness, your lips pecking his cheek in a display of affection.

“Y/n!” your ex called, and you look at him, he was standing in front of you, a confident smile on his face. “Long time no see, how have you been?”

“Good,” you answer with a tight smile. “You?”

“Much better now, but I gotta say I do miss you a lot.”

Your face wrinkles in astounded horror, the slightest bit of disgust and disbelief while he seems to ignore Bakugou all together.

“Listen, I know I said a lot of shitty things to you awhile back, but I’m so sorry!” he says, his face nor tone showing regret. “I know you’re not seeing anyone right now, so if you want to have an amazing boyfriend again, I’ll consider taking you back!”

“Fucking horse mouth,” Bakugou snapped, his teeth gritting together while he glared at your ex, his finger digging into your side. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“Hm?” he alliterated, his eyes lazily falling onto Bakugou, “Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

“Yeah, and fucking back off before I shove my fist down your throat, asshole,” Bakugou threatened, his eyes squinting, his shoulders stiff.

“And why should I?” he asked, his lips pulled into a taunt. “Even if you’re dating, y/n-chan, it’s not like you’re any better than me, right Bakugou Katsuki? Y/n is grown, and I’m obviously the more mature one of…” he trailed off.

Why exactly?

Well, it seemed both you and Bakugou had the same exact idea. Your fingers thread through the thick hair at the nape of his neck. His fingers slipping under your shirt to rest against your warm back and your lips meeting in a passionate affair. His lips were tantalizing against yours, viciously warm, effortlessly smooth while your mouths moved in synch. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids, electricity emitting through your joined lips while they moved impassioned for each other.

His hold was tight, and your head tilted with your tongue, obviously coming to sweep at his bottom tongue.

“Do you have any shame?!” a voice broke from your left, and you saw an elder staring at the two of you with obvious shock at the intense PDA the two of you had just shared.

You couldn’t even find the words to apologize, your mind utterly consumed with the need to have Bakugou’s mouth pressed against yours once again. The both of you were blissfully unaware of the fact that your ex had since scurried away the moment the kissing took a sensual turn.

“Um,” Bakugou seemed to be at a loss too, and you studied his face that seemed to be going through a million more emotions than he was used to. “Was that—?”

“If you want,” you tease, bringing your lips once more to the corner of his mouth before grabbing his hand and pulling him away.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou fluff #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha spring time

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Text

Loosen Up My Buttons, Babe

So I was an Irish soft-shoe dancer for like 10 years and did ballet, tap, contemporary and jazz on the side.

The dance Geralt/his students are working on is HERE ON YOUTUBE and this studio’s stuff is so good, you should browse if you feel like it.

(I’d like to imagine that Geralt moves kinda like the blonde girl at the front of the second set of dancers... you cannot miss her)

lemme know if you like this au, I might add more later.

tw: vaguely horny

---

“Alright, let’s do some across-the-floors for warm-ups, please,” Geralt clapped, getting the attention of his students. The handful of young adults scurried to the far left corner of the room and awaited further instruction. “Let’s work on the combo from last week. Everyone good with that? Good. Let’s go!”

He pressed play on his Advanced Hip Hop Warm Up playlist and watched as each of his students worked their way from one corner to the other with a series of complicated break-downs and steps. Once the entire class had gone through the combination, first one way and then the other, he nodded and switched the song.

“Now let’s do the combo from two weeks ago and see if you were paying attention. If you’re not comfortable going first, let someone else go. Once you feel ready, take your turn. Alright?”

A handful of confident nods and yet another handful of less confident ones. About on par for an Advanced class. He waved them on and observed yet another smooth set of passes.

“Everyone feel warmed up and ready to move on?”

More nodding. This was his quietest class, probably because it was the only class he taught for college freshmen and sophomores, and they were a nervous bunch. Any students older than twenty moved on to Eskel’s technically driven adult class. Geralt taught ages twelve to twenty, six hip-hop classes a week, two hours a class. It was fun, but it was tough work and it had put his body through the wringer.

The ballet instructor across the hall was well-worth the suffering, though. He was new, fresh out of the Conservatory with his Master’s in Dance and another in Music Theory; a prodigy, he’d heard the studio owner say in passing. Perhaps, although Geralt would never admit it aloud, this particular routine had been drummed up by him and Eskel specifically to get the ballet teacher’s attention.

“Alright, I’ll run through it with you the first time, but then you’re on your own.”

“Yes, Mr. B,” the class replied in unison. He pressed play on a different song and took his spot in front of the two-way mirror at the front of the room. The class could see him and themselves, but on the other side of the glass was the hallway separating him from the ballet students. The ballet classroom was the largest, and had a mirror at the front, leaving the side wide open to observe the hip-hop students. Geralt was counting on his curious neighbor paying attention.

He hadn’t put this many body rolls and floor movements into one combination for nothing, after all.

---

Jaskier was salivating. He didn’t have a class between four and five in the afternoon, so he usually sat in his studio space and stretched or worked through new choreography for his students; today his attention had been very thoroughly grabbed by the class across the hall.

The gorgeous, white-haired beefcake of a hip-hop teacher, Geralt somethingorother, was hot as fuck and he was doing some truly delicious moves right now as he led his class through a combo. Jaskier wanted to kiss him desperately, but he wasn’t sure whether or not the other teacher was even into guys.

Based on this performance, however, he probably (definitely) liked men a bit. No straight man could move his hips, ass, and chest like that without breaking at least a little bit of a sweat (although it was still early in the class period...).

“Fuck me,” he sighed, thunking his forehead against the glass of one wall-length mirror to cool off as Geralt snapped his hips back and forth before hitting the floor with his palms flattened. “That should be illegal.”

“What should be illegal?” Eskel, another hip-hop teacher asked. He’d poked his head and shoulders into the studio and Jaskier blushed brightly at being caught.

“You can see him too, right? You can see the way he’s -oh gods, look at his chest - he’s moving, right?”

“Seems like you have a mild crush on my brother, huh?”

“Brother!?”

“Twins, actually,” Eskel winked. “But I’m not nearly as flexible as Geralt.”

“Eskel, darling, please stop it right now before I burst into very manly tears of joy,” Jaskier whined, punching his friend and coworker lamely on the arm. “How come you never told me before?”

“He doesn’t even know that I come bother you between our classes,” the dark-haired man winked. “He’d probably kill me. He’s very jealous, our Geralt.”

“So he’s... you know...”

“Yeah, dude, he’s into you, too.”

Jaskier may or may not have hyperventilated a little while Eskel looked on with giddy glee.

Geralt would be happy to know his plan had worked.

#geraskier #dance studio au #dance teacher au #geraskier dance au #hip hop dance teacher geralt #hip hop dancer geralt #ballet dancer jaskier #ballet teacher jaskier #hip hop teacher eskel #twins? i guess #ficlet #geraskier ficlet #getting together #does this count as seduction?#buttons

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starrywhump · 3 years

Note

Another game for the whumpee to play with the caretaker. Live hangman, always stopping before the whumpee dies, but only to do it over and over again, the caretaker at the brink of collapse before *finally* getting it right and bringing whumpee home. Only for one day for another friend to suggest the game to pass the time.

I love this idea thank you so much for submitting it! I hope the few small changes I made are ok, and I hope you all enjoy reading it!

Tw: Flashbacks, panic attacks

“Please don’t do this!” The caretaker begged, pulling against their cuffs. A short length of chain held them from getting to the whumpee, from helping the whumpee.

“Since you refuse to cooperate I guess you just don’t care about them,” the whumper ran a hand through the whumpee’s hair.

The whumpee was on their knees. Their head was pulled taught by a chain looped around their neck hooked up to the ceiling. They were struggling to stay conscious. After hours of torture and days of sleep deprivation, they were so tired. The lack of oxygen was almost too much to bear.

The whumper yanked the whumpee’s head back by their hair.

The whumpee yelped.

“Maybe I should just put them out of their misery if you aren’t going to try to save them,” the whumper pushed the whumpee’s head forwards. They turned and pulled at the other end of the chain, yanking the whumpee up so the chain pulled against their neck.

The whumpee gasped, grabbing at the chain to try and loosen it.

“No! Stop it! Stop please, please!” The caretaker yelled.

“If you won’t play there is no reason to keep them alive.”

“No no please! I’ll play, please don’t kill them!” The caretaker cried, jerking away from their restraints.

“Excellent, this will be much more fun!” The whumper released the chain.

The whumpee crumpled to the ground as soon as the tension of the chain was released.

“Ok six letters, make a guess.”

“I- uh,” the caretaker’s mind was blank. They couldn’t think of anything. This was the most important time to be able to think and they couldn’t think.

“I-I... please don’t, please.”

“I? Is that your guess?”

“No please-”

“Incorrect. No I in this word,” the whumper grabbed at chain again, pulling down on it so the whumpee was once again held up by their neck.

The whumpee let out a strangled cry.

“No, please! Please stop you’re going to kill them!” Tears flowed down the caretaker’s face.

“I’m simply playing out the rules of the game. I am being perfectly fair,” the whumper smiled.

“Stand up whumpee, please. If you can, please, it would be better, you could- you could breathe if you stood up, please!” The caretaker pushed forward, trying to get to the whumpee across the room. They pulled so hard that the cuffs cut into their skin. Blood trickled down their arms.

The whumpee’s eyes were panic-filled, they didn’t register what the caretaker said to them. They seemed to be on the edge of unconsciousness, kept awake only by adrenaline and terror.

“Ok second guess, go,” the whumper looped the chain around a hook on the wall behind them, holding the whumpee in place.

“Please let them down! Let them down and then I’ll try again, please.”

“That isn’t how it works. Make a guess.”

“Ok, ok uh let me think. Ok uh, um... e?”

“E! Good job, very smart. E is the fifth letter, now guess the other ones.”

The caretaker breathes a small breath of relief, they just needed to keep this up “Ok uh...a?”

“Nope!”

“Wait-”

The whumper pulled the chain down again.

“Ngggh- ‘lease,” the whumpee choked out a plea as they were lifted off the ground.

The whumper smiled at the whumpee’s struggle.

“Whumpee, stand up, please. Please,” the caretaker begged.

The whumpee scrambled to get their feet under them. After a what felt like an eternity of struggle the whumpee managed to stand. They gasped for air, holding the loop of chain around their neck.

The whumper looked disappointed that the whumpee was able to get up, their sick grin quickly returned to their face as they looked back to the caretaker. “Next guess!”

“Give them a second please!” tears flowed down the caretaker's face.

“Guess,” the whumper’s tone was dangerous.

The caretaker sobbed, “please stop this.”

“Don’t make me ask again.”

“Ok, ok, I- uh, is... is, uh... what about T?” The caretaker’s breathing picked up, they couldn’t breathe. The whumpee dying, right in front of them, and there was nothing they could do about it.

“Sorry no T,” the whumper grinned

“No don’t!” The caretaker’s voice cracked as they yelled.

The whumper ignored them. They pulled the chain, more than usual this time, forcing the whumpee up onto their feet so they could just barely touch the ground.

The whumpee pulled at the chain around their neck, the sound of choked gasps filled the room as they desperately tried to take in enough air.

The caretaker sobbed harder at the sight of them, “Please! I’ll do anything, please stop! Do whatever you want to me just let them go. Let them go, please!”

“All I want is for you to play the game,” The whumper circled the whumpee, enjoying as they became more and more desperate to breathe, as the panic and fear grew in their eyes.

“Ok I will, I will, just... can I have a hint or... or something? Please?” The caretaker focused on calming down, they couldn’t help the whumpee if they broke down.

“Hmmm a hint,” the whumper looked between the caretaker and and the whumpee, pondering, “I suppose a hint couldn’t hurt. Alright here it is: the word you need to guess is what my dear whumpee is, and always will be,” the whumper smirked, confident that they succeeded in making the caretaker even more confused.

The caretaker squeezed their eyes shut, desperately racking their brain for the right word.

Five, no six letters, six letters, the fifth letter is e, six letters.

Six, six minutes, would the whumpee live another six minutes? How long could they last without being able to breathe-Focus!

Oh god oh god, focus!

E is... six letters, five, e, focus, six-

“You have your hint, make your guess,” the whumper broke the caretaker out of their spiraling thoughts.

The caretaker nodded tearfully, “is there a, um, h?”

The whumper grinned, eyes lighting up with glee, “Nope! Wrong again!”

The caretaker’s heart fell, “let me try again, please!”

“You will try again, as soon as I dole out the correct punishment for your mistake this round,” the whumper walked back to behind the whumpee and slowly pulled on the chain. They took their time, watching the whumpee’s feet lift of the ground.

Horrible, spluttering, almost-silent, gasps came from the whumpee, they weakly kicked their legs, trying to find purchase on any surface to relieve their pain and let them breathe.

“No! Please! Please please stop! Please!” the caretaker screamed, wrenching their hands away from the chain, thrashing to get to the whumpee.

“Next guess, and I suggest you hurry. I’d say you have at the very most fifteen minutes before your friend here is dead. Five if I’m lucky.”

No! Nonononono they had to focus they had to ok, ok they could do this just... just FOCUS.

The caretaker was hyperventilating, they could barely speak, they forced out a guess, “N?!”

“Hey! There is an N! Who would’ve guessed? Well I guess you guessed,” the whumper laughed at their own joke, “N is the last letter, that means so far you have: something, something, something, something, e, n.”

“Ok ok, I uh,” the caretaker let out a sob as they glanced back at their friend, the whumpee wasn’t kicking anymore, their eyes were squeezed closed, but they continued to gasp weakly.

“Tick tock, time is running out,” the whumper spoke in a sing-song tone as if talking to a young child.

The caretaker shut their eyes, they couldn’t look at the whumpee, they needed to think.

Focus. It is what the whumpee is and always will be. Or what the whumper thinks the whumpee is and always will be, e, n, e, n-

Their eyes shot open.

“B!”

“Oh?” the whumpee seemed surprised by their guess, “that was luck-”

“B!” the caretaker interupted!

“Fine yes, correct, don’t be so-”

“R!”

The whumper’s face fell, knowing the caretaker had figured it out.

“O, k, e, n. The word is broken!”

The whumper rolled their eyes, “I never should have given you that hint.”

“I guessed it let them down! You have to! Please!”

“Fine, fine, don’t be so pushy it’s rude,” the whumper moved as slowly as they could towards the whumpee. Then in one quick motion they unhooked the chain, sending the whumpee slamming down onto the floor.

The whumpee didn’t move from the position they fell to, crumpled in a heap, with their face pushed into the ground.

The caretaker hoped, prayed that they were just unconscious.

The whumper riffled through their pocket pulling out a small key.

The caretaker recognized it as the key to their cuffs, was the whumper really going to let them go?

“I am nothing if not someone of my word,” the whumper sighed, and dropped the key on the ground, “find a way to get that and you’re free.”

The caretaker took in a shaky breath, the key looked outside of their reach, but maybe they could get it with their foot, or maybe they could wake up the whumpee?

“See? I am not a sore loser,” the whumper grined at the caretaker, “I look forward to our next game.”

Without giving the caretaker a chance to respond the whumper turned and walked out of the room.

********

“They’re going to be alright, really, they just need rest,” A doctor stood before the caretaker, they were writing something on a clipboard. The caretaker couldn’t remember their name, they hadn’t been listening when they introduced themselves.

The only thing they had been paying any real attention to is the whumpee. The caretaker sat on a chair next to the whumpee’s bed, holding one of their hands with both of theirs.

The caretaker’s wrists had been bandaged, but other than that they hadn’t needed much medical care. The whumpee on the other hand was hooked up to so many tubes, the caretaker couldn’t count them all.

The caretaker wasn’t sure what all the different tubes were doing, part of them wanted to rip them all out, to stop anyone from ever touching the whumpee again. But the rest of them, the logical part of them knew that the doctors were helping the whumpee.

The caretaker flinched as the doctor laid a hand on their shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

The caretaker noded stiffly.

“Well as I was saying, when they wake up we want to try and engage them, so we could use your help. We need to observe them speaking and moving to do a final check that everything is working as it should.”

“O-ok. How can I help?” The caretaker tore their gaze from the whumpee to look up at the doctor.

“Just speak to them, act naturally. Maybe play a little game with them, something simple like tic tac toe, or hangman.”

The caretaker’s breathe caught in there throat.

The doctor didn’t seem to notice, they continued to speak.

The caretaker didn’t hear the rest of what the doctor was saying. Dread was building up in the pit of their stomach.

They couldn’t breathe.

Panic filled up their head.

They squeezed their eyes shut.

nonononono please don’t, I won, you can’t do it again please.

Their eyes flew open and suddenly they were back in that horrible room. In front of them the whumpee hung, thrashing and gasping for air.

“NO!” the caretaker screamed, pushing forward to get to the whumpee.

Hands were on them, holding them, grabbing them.

NONONONO.

“STOP STOP YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” the caretaker screamed as loud as they could.

This isn’t fair I won! I played your game!

The hands pulled on them.

The whumper pulled on them.

Pulling them back away from the whumpee.

The whumpee was dying and the caretaker couldn’t reach them.

Someone tried to say something to the caretaker.

It was the whumper, they couldn’t listen to them, they swung their arm towards the voice.

“STOP STOP”

The whumpee spluttered in front of them, they stopped struggling.

Red streaks of blood started to ooze from the whumpees eyes.

The caretaker screamed.

The whumpee was dead, they couldn’t save them.

“NO NO NO NO!” the caretaker’s voice broke as they yelled.

A sharp pain lit up the side of the caretaker’s neck.

The hands became more aggressive, forcing them to move.

Dark began to creep around the edges of the caretaker’s vision.

The caretaker sobbed.

They didn’t fight the hands, or the dark, they let them take over.

If the whumpee was dead there was nothing left worth fighting for.

125 notes · View notes

yandere-ac · 4 years

Note

What if the other villagers teamed up and broke into Raymond's house to take back the villager?

“You did wonderful today my dear. Simply amazing! I wish your voice where the only one I heard.” Raymond told you as you uncomfortably shifted in his grip. Raymond and you were currently lying in bed, him completely engulfing you in his grasp all while you laid there. Defenceless to do anything. He was praising you for today’s little show, you had sung Bubblegum K.K for him all while dancing around in the maid dress he gave you.

Well, it was less a dance and more of you trembling while trying to move around, bouncing up and down and doing a few spins all while Raymond observed in glee. Its been two years since you were first kidnapped, since then he’s gotten progressively more and more clingy with you. Nowadays it would seem like you didn’t get a second to yourself. And he sure hadn’t cut down on the affection either. He loved to touch you, from holding your paw to picking you up at random times out of nowhere. It was very easy for him since you were so much smaller than him. He was determined to make sure you knew that in every possible way, you were his. He made you wear clothing that he’d either bought or made himself, like you were just his little doll to dress up in whatever way he wanted. Usually the dresses he bought for you were pretty standard but you had found that the more dresses he made for you, the more progressively revealing they got. The skirt part of the dress In particular got shorter and shorter, as if Raymond was really starting to enjoy himself. By now you were pretty used to his possessive nature, so much that you weren’t that scared around him anymore. His looming presence made you uncomfortable and tense, but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. You could be in the same room as him without hyperventilating. Because at the end of the day, Raymond was very predictable. He would ask you to do stuff for his enjoyment, if you refused, he would continue nagging you before making it perfectly clear that his word was final. And so, you would do his request, he would be overjoyed and compliment you afterwards. Ultimately, you didn’t have a choice. So you had learned to just get it over with, because you had no power in this situation.

“I’m thinking tomorrow I’ll go to the plaza to get some new songs for you to sing. While I do love the way you sing Bubblegum K.K. I’m curious as to how your lovely singing voice would sound with other songs. Im sure you can handle yourself while I’m gone.” So he was going away tomorrow. That’s always nice. Whenever he left to buy something was the only time that you were actually alone. You would usually spend that time crying and screaming, just letting all your pent up emotions out. You had learned the hard way to never under any circumstance let Raymond see you cry. Because he would always try to make you feel better, which would always result in you crying harder. You wanted so desperately to get away from him but at the same time, all hope of that ever happening had left you. You just wished that the desire would leave as well. Maybe then you could finally get used to this hell. But one thing that always held you back was your curiosity. You need to know what was happening outside. It’s gnawed at you like a dog to a bone. And it was driving you insane. “Tell me....how are they?” As soon as the question formed, the air became tense and heavy. You could feel Raymond’s grip on your waist get slightly stronger. “Why do you care?” His voice was cold, almost lacking of any discernible emotion, and it sent shivers down your spine. “I just...I miss them. And I’m worried for them. It’s been plaguing my mind for these past few weeks. Please just tell me, just once, then I’ll be quiet I promise.” You pleaded to him, hoping that maybe he’ll provide you with some sort of comfort. He let out a deep sigh, his hot breath brushing against your neck as he did so. “Well if you must know. They’re still just as crazy. Never shuts up about you. One of them have gone missing, Mr Nook says he moved out but I don’t believe that for one second. From the fact that his house is still up to the fact that Timmy and Tommy has inexplicably stopped selling ropes. You can probably fill in the blanks by yourself.” Was he insinuating that...no...no he can’t be! He has to be joking! “....w-who?” Your voice was shaky and barely audible. “Marvin I think his name was? Pesky little rat. Never did like him that much, he moved in without my permission and would refuse to leave. Never would have thought that I only needed to remove you out of the equation in order to make him leave.” Marvin. Hearing that name in this instance was like being stabbed through the heart. The grey mouse was your closest friend on the island, to hear that he would...that he. You almost let out a tear but desperately tried to keep it in. In the end you only let out a heavy breath that filtered through your teeth. Almost sounding like you were in actual pain. For whatever reason, Raymond either didn’t hear it or decided to ignore it.

“As for everyone else, nothing major has happened. That boy Damien has been pestering me a lot lately. He’s been making theories about where you might have gone. None have been correct thankfully. I think our priority should be to get away from this island as soon as possible. I don’t want to even think about what they would do if they found you here. Trust me, if you think I’m bad then you’ve only seen the top of the iceberg.” For once, you actually somewhat agreed with Raymond. While the idea of being completely alone with him on an island didn’t exactly sound comforting, the thought of eleven people being like Raymond was even less comforting. Especially since they’ve been without you for so long, even if they were your friends, and even if you missed them, you were scared of them. Because you didn’t miss what they had become today, not in the slightest. You had missed singing together with Tilly, you had missed giving blathers fossils, watching as his eyes lit up while explaining them to you, you missed visiting Damien and Bonnabelle, talking about life and such. You had missed going to talk with Tom about what to do whenever you felt stressed or sad, with him giving you advice while comforting you. You didn’t miss being tugged on each arm like a little doll. You didn’t miss your friends hurting each other to get to you, you didn’t miss being trapped with some of them for days on end. You just wanted things to go back to the way it used to be. But that would never happen. Your fate was sealed and you couldn’t change it. No matter what happened, you were doomed to be Raymond’s little love bunny.

Or so you thought.

Hours later you found that you still couldn’t fall asleep. Sleep deprivation had been a huge problem for you since you weren’t sleeping in the most comfortable position. If you ever did manage to catch some sleep you would often be woken up by nightmares. This particular night, the thought of Marvin was the one that kept you up. You didn’t want to believe that such a sweet and upbeat mouse would ever do something like that. It seemed so out of reach. You wished you never would have asked Raymond what was going on. You wished that you would have just kept your mouth shut, because none of the things he told you made you feel any better. In fact, they only contributed to this horrible cloud of despair that was forming over your head. Dripping sad and depressing thoughts on you that leaked inside your brain. As the night continued, you let the tears flow. Flow like the endless waves of hopelessness that was building inside you. But then. Something really unexpected happened.

CRASH!

The loud sound of a window breaking shook you out of your thoughts as you jolted. It also woke Raymond up, making him drag his entire body up while looking around the room rather hastily. The sound came from a window right in front of your bed. Scattered across the ground was shards of broken glass and attached to the apron of the window was...a grapple hook? It took a mere seconds for Raymond to bolt out of bed and rush at the window with the speed of a bullet. But he was not quick enough as the moment he got the the window and pulled the hook off, a big paw grabbed the edge of the windows frame. Before any of you could react, the person hanging onto the window threw them self in, shattering any part of the window that wasn’t destroyed by the grappling hook. As they threw them selfs inside, they knocked Raymond to the ground with them. Raymond let out a piercing scream as a piece of glass got stuck in his shoulder. While all of this happen, you sat in the bed, looking horrified at the sight before you. You knew who that was, you could recognise him anywhere. The figure, a black wolf, that was pinning Raymond’s body down to the ground, was Damien. His eyes were wide and his breathing was heavy. He opened his big mouth and tried to chomp down on the human underneath him. But Raymond managed to hold him back while grasping at the wolf’s face, making sure not to put his fingers anywhere near the sharp teeth that were currently snapping at him. You could see Raymond’s grip getting weaker and weaker and Damien getting closer and closer. Throwing yourself out of bed, you ran towards the wolf and tried to pull him off. “NO! DAMIEN! DON’T! PLEASE JUST- LET GO!” Once you placed your arms around his chest he finally seemed to slow down. Only to throw you off of him and instead scratch Raymond across the face. After that he started to repeatedly kick his shaking body, each kick forcing out a yelp or chocked sob out of Raymond. You once again tried to pull Damien off of him, but this time it was even less affective since you were still pretty dizzy from being thrown to the ground so roughly. You felt your mind start to skip, finding it hard to even stand up. One misstep while trying to regain your posture caused you to fall as your legs gave in. Luckily, a pair of strong arms caught you before you could reach the floor. As the world was becoming darker, the only thing you could hear was the persistent whimpers of Raymond as your sight got darker and darker. Just before you lost your tight grip on consciousness, you felt a hand stroke your face. And then you heard the voice of a vary familiar character.

“Shh Shh, no need to worry my dear. We’ve got you. Now let’s get you home yes, yes?”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The air was completely silent except for the very distinct sound of a clock ticking. It was the sound that eased you back into reality as you tried to open your eyes. As the first glimpse of light filled your eyes, you let out a small grunt and closed them again. But I’m doing that, you made your waking presence known to the person laying in bed next to you. Once you heard a deep chuckle, your eyes that previously felt heavy shot open. You turned around to see the familiar black furred face of a wolf. It was Damien. You couldn’t register what you were seeing, so for a few seconds you two just laid there, staring at each other. Until one of you broke the silence. “Good morning, my dear bunny rabbit.” He gave you a comforting smile as he leaned in and licked your cheek. Now this wasn’t uncommon for him to do, it’s how he showed affection, but in this context, this action made you shrink together into a tense ball. “Hm? Oh come on now. That’s not how you greet your old pal, now is it? Where’s that smile (N/N)~” (N/N), you hadn’t heard anyone call you that for two years. And yet, when you heard it, it did nothing to calm your nerves or reassure you. “W....where am I?” You asked, voice shaky, almost sounding minuscule when compared to Damiens. ”You’re in my and Bons house of course.” His and Bons house. It only just occurred to you that this was indeed their house. But if so, where was Bonnabelle? As if to answer your question you felt something shifting by your back. You turned your head over to look at the disturbance to find the small pink bunny named Bonnabelle looking at you with a smile. The much smaller bunny jumped up and climbed on top of you. “Hello ms/mr/mx Y/N!” The bunny beamed at you, but you didn’t respond. You hadn’t known how to respond. Why were you here? How were you here?! Where was-

Your eyes went wide as thoughts of last night reappeared in your mind. The sound of the humans whines as Damien kicked him repeatedly. The feeling of collapsing into someone’s arms. And the whole world going dark. All of that had led up to this. And that only made this predicament scarier. “Is something the matter bunny rabbit? You seem particularly jumpy.” The wolf told you while rising up from his lying position. You didn’t get a chance to answer as he pulled you out of the bed and into his arms, cradling your body close to him. “We shall go announce your awakening to the others. I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic. Come on now little bunny, keep up.” He turned to Bonnabelle who was already out of bed and bouncing up and down excitedly. Needless to say, she had no trouble with keeping up.

Damien carries you all the way to resident services, much to your dismay. You had tried to struggle, but unfortunately Damien was much stronger than you. Once the three of you entered, Tom and Isabelle both ran up to you, asking countless questions all while touching you in various ways. You weren’t able to answer. Isabelle ran over to the intercom where she announced that you where finally awake and that everyone should come to the resident services at their earliest possible convenience. And sure enough, villagers started to drop in, all of them rushing up to you, bombarding you with questions. Never once did Damien let go of you, he kept holding you close to his body, almost seeming hostile towards his fellow villagers. As the last person dropped in, all of them gathered around to discuss what they should do. They were all in unanimous agreement that they couldn’t keep fighting over you and that they had to find a compromise. It was then Blathers that suggested that everyone should get one entire day with you where they could do whatever they wanted without anyone else intervening. And while some seemed a little iffy about only being able to have you for a day and having to wait eleven more days to be with you again, most of them reluctantly agreed to the rule. Everyone but you. But you didn’t actually get any say in this. In fact, when you objected to this idea some had started to snicker at this, as if the thought of you having any say in this matter was so humorous.

That was five days ago. You where sitting on the floor of Raja the Cats house. He was still wearing the same scarf and coat that he had two years ago. The feline was showing you his flower collection that he started a couple months before you got abducted. Needless to say, his collection had grown quiet a lot. He was flipping through the pages of compressed flowers that where all kept in a big book, kept safely by a leather case that was currently laying on the floor. Raja was eagerly pointing at each one, like a child showing their mother a drawing they made. “And this! This is the white rose that you gave me! I still remembered that! Remember? Remember? I told you that I was starting a flower collection and you asked me if you could help and I said sure and you gave me this flower! Do you remember Y/N? I remember! I loved it! I was so happy that you would help me! I simply had to put it in immediately!” The cat continued with his blabbering, having to interrupt himself in the middle of his sentences just to take another breath. Your eyes trailed off to the pages of the book that was resting in his lap. There, filling an entire page was your white rose. It had seemed like Raja had drawn a formal frame around it, writing “Y/N’s rose” in calligraphy underneath the frame. On the page next to it was a bunch of small flowers. Underneath them stood the name of the flower and who had picked it. While most of them said Raja, there was one name that made a knot form in your stomach. There, in black ink, stood the name Raymond. It was a black rose, just as dried up and shrivelled as your white one. But seeing his rose, the one that HE specifically gave Raja, being dead. It brought a stinging feeling to your eyes. As much as you hated to admit it, you still cared for Raymond. Just like the way you cared for your friends here on the island. Because no matter how possessive Raymond was, no matter how much he scared you, no matter how much you wanted to get away from him. He was your friend. And you didn’t want him to die. But thinking back to that night, the night of your so called “rescue”. The sounds of his weak voice, his whimpers as Damien kicked him repeatedly. You had no reason to believe that he wasn’t six feet under at this very moment. But you doubted that any of them would have enough respect for him to bury him. You were sure that you’d be able to smell the rotten stench of his carcass if you walked close to his mansion. The thought made you sob, interrupting Raja’s ramblings.

“Is something wrong? What’s the matter?” He asked you, looking at you with his big orange eyes while pushing up his round glasses slightly. “I....I’m....” you were trying to answer the cat but no cohesive sentences would form in your head. Unfortunately for you, you would never get to answer him. As the loud sound of a high pitched shriek could be heard from outside. You both turned your heads towards the door and you ran out to see where the scream came from. Raja followed you, still holding his book, shouting at you to stop but you where already at the door before he could do anything. With one swift swoop you pulled the door open and ran out. And the sight before you struck you with pure unfiltered terror. Outside, scattered around the ground laid several dead bodies, from Blathers, to Isabelle, to Bonnabelle to even the dodo brothers. They laid there, cold and unmoving. And right in the centre of your vision were the two people you dreaded the most. It was Damien the wolf and Raymond the island rep. Raymond had him pinned to the ground, knife a mere inches above his chest. Damien had an iron grip on Raymond’s arms, trying to block the slowly approaching knife. But Raymond wasn’t giving up, he put his full weight on the knife, almost leaning on it while simultaneously pressing it down. As Raja looked at this, he let out a shocked gasp while dropping his book. “Damien! No!” He cried out. But what he didn’t realise was that he caused a distraction, making Damien look over at you two and giving Raymond the opportunity to drive the knife straight into Damiens stomach. As the knife penetrated his skin and lodged deep within his body, Damiens mouth opened as his eyes went wide. He tried to scream, to cry out. But all that came out was the hacky sounds of barely audible gasps. He coughed up blood which went straight into Raymond’s face, but Raymond didn’t even flinch as the blood splattered across his face, he just watched, eyes intense and breath heavy. Raymond kept the knife in place, leaning closer to Damien in order to watch the life leave his eyes. And as Damien began to slip away, Raymond started to twist the knife, making the wolf let out one last whine of pain. There was a few seconds of silence, you had been frozen the entire time. No matter how much your mind was screaming at you to run your body refused, too shocked to move after seeing the gruesome scene. The silence broke when the soft sound of Raja falling to his knees filled the air. Only then where you able to turn your head and look at him. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as violently as a waterfall. What happened next shook you out of your paralysed state. Raja let out a loud scream, a pained and sorrowful one that shook you to your core. But that scream also broke Raymond out of his momentary daze as he quickly and rather violently whipped his head towards you two. He quickly rushed at you. You tried to run but Raja grabbed ahold of your leg, looking at you in desperation. “DON’T LEAVE ME-“ he was cut off as Raymond tackled him to the ground, releasing your leg and giving you the opportunity to run. And ran you did, you ran as fast as you possibly could. You ran and ran until you could feel your legs start to give up. Your chest was hurting, your legs were hurting, everything was hurting. But you couldn’t stop, you had to get out of here, you had to get away from him. He snapped, he finally snapped. And you weren’t going to be on the receiving end of whatever blind rage he was going to inflict.

You were hiding, cowering in fear inside of the museum. You were in the shark department, hoping that the darkness would serve as camouflage until you figured out what to do. You knew you couldn’t hide away forever, this island wasn’t all that big, you had to figure out a plan of some sort. There had to be a boat or ship or anything that could take you away from here. Maybe you could get Pascal to help you? You would swim if you had to! You just needed to get away from here as fast as possible! If you stayed here, you would surely die!

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

Oh god. The haunting sounds of footsteps were echoing throughout the exhibit, each step making you more tense. You brought your knees close to your chest, hugging them as you buried your head in fear. You could hear him getting closer, and closer, and closer and-....they stopped. The sounds stopped, filling the air with dreadful silence. Silence which was interrupted one you felt someone grab you by the collar and roughly pulling you up to your feet before throwing you back to the ground. Raymond had found you and had thrown you to at the stairs nearby. You let out a loud cry of agony as pain filled your lower back, spreading throughout your entire body. Raymond approaches you slowly, knife in his hand and hunger in his eyes. Soon he was towering over your helpless body that you were sure he would make into a corpse. “R-Raym-m-mond! P-please! D-DONT! I-I didn’t mean to- I thought you were dead! I-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence as Raymond drove the knife downwards.

SHINK!

You closed your eyes, awaiting the pain. But there was none. As you opened your eyes you saw Raymond, a couple of inches away. He was breathing heavily, hot breaths brushing against your lips, and only now did you see how unwell he really looked. His hair that he was so adamant about keeping neat was scruffy and disheveled. He had a black eye and tons of scratches on his body. It had seemed like Damien really messed him up back at his mansion. He had bags under his eyes, and he smelled...strangely. You couldn’t quite place it put it was far from the usual aroma that he had. He was sweating, eyelids giving off a slight twitch every so often. He had driven the knife right into the hard stone floor, making the tip of the knife pop right off and making a few scratches to the flooring. He had missed, on purpose. By now your heart was beating so fast, you could barely form any words, only small sounds. And Raymond did nothing to ease your nerves once he started to laugh. A laugh which started out as quiet and breathy but soon turned loud and deranged. You quickly started to struggle, flailing around while trying to get away from him. But Raymond grabbed ahold of your throat, pressing you down into the ground, not hard enough to choke you but hard enough to leave an impact. As your feeble attempts died down, so did his laugh. All he was doing now was looking at you with a deluded smile. “...hah...haha...ha....did you...think you could get away from me...that easily?” He told you. You were crying and hyperventilating at this point, unable to answer him in any valuable way. He brought the knife closer to your face, stroking your cheek with the blade while chuckling. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” This statement made your heart leap out of your chest. “WHAT?! NO! PLEASE DONT! PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU! I DIDN’T WANT ANY IF THIS I PROMISE! I SWEAR! PLEASE DONT KILL ME!” Raymond let out yet another chuckle. “Your begging is so cute my dear. I love you Y/N. I love you I love you I love you! You just don’t know how to appreciate it yet...but you’ll learn...yeah...you’ll learn...after all. We’ve got all the time in the world right now don’t we? It seems that private island dream isn’t so far away now huh? I’ll have to check this place to make sure no one else is left, but after that. Oho my dear! We can make this place our own!” He was rambling, all while being dangerously close to you and playing with his knife. He stopped mid sentence, eyes becoming blank and unfocused, as if he was thinking.

“....however...you did disobey me...and well, I just can’t let that go unpunished do i?” Your eyes grew wide as he told you this. Raymond leaned down, smashing his lips onto yours rather violently as he let out deep breaths. He was holding you down, making sure you couldn’t move while he kissed you. Some blood that was on his face dropped off and landed right on yours, Raymond looked down at you, noticing the drop of blood that had splattered on your cheek. He leaned down and licked it off of you. “Now then. We’ll worry about that later. Poor thing, you look exhausted. I bet these freaks really took a toll on you hm? Let’s get you to bed, I’ll figure out a proper punishment tomorrow. For now, just relax. But know my dear...” he let out yet another chuckle. Staring deep into your eyes. “If you ever...EVER! Run away from me again...” he leaned in and whispered in your ear. “I won’t miss....” three words. The words was all it took for more tears to come flowing out of your eyes. Tears which Raymond also licked off your face. He picked your shaking body up and walked away, presumably going back to your house. But your stomach twisted when you realised that. Because you knew to get to Raymond’s house, you had to go past Raja’s house. So you closed your eyes all while he carried you. You didn’t want to see them. You never wanted to see them like that again. But even as you closed your eyes, you could smell them. You could smell their already decaying corpses. The smell made you gag. And that was enough for Raymond to bring you closer to him. “Such a waste. They dug their own grave when they took what was mine...” his voice was low and unfeeling. The way he spoke, it made you anxious. He really did only see you as a toy. “Would you look at that, it’s the rose I gave him...look Y/N. Look.” You kept your eyes closed, letting out a small whine. But Raymond wasn’t having it. “LOOK!” Your eyes shot open as he yelled at you. A yelp escaped your throat as you saw the scene before you. Raja was laying dead on the ground. There was blood seeping out of him and it had covered the base of his flower collection. It would seem when he dropped the book it opened on the page of you and Raymond’s roses.

“Huh...ironic. You know, in some cultures, a living black rose is supposed to represent the beginning of new things and major changes. But a shrivelled and dead one represents death.” Raymond used his foot to close the book before looking at Raja. “Tsk. Such a foolish individual. I’m sure you’re happy to be rid of him.” Looking at the dead cat, something sunk in. You felt hopeless, you were now officially stuck with him. Forever and always. Until either one of you died. Only them would you be free from this hell. You wished you could just disappear. But he wouldn’t let you. He would be sure you stayed with him at all times. You remembered what he had told you years ago when he found you on that deserted island.

“You should move to my island! I promise you, you’ll be treated well! We’re all really kind and you would love it there! I see the pain in your eyes Y/N. You’ve been treated badly. But I assure you! On my island you’ll be treated like royalty!”

Like royalty. More like a gem. A gem that had to be locked away at all times.

All this time. You’d never thought that Raymond would go this far. You thought that he peaked at abducting you. But no. This was so much worse. He had reached the point of no return. What was he going to do with you now? Now that there truly was no one there to stop him? And what punishment was he planning? Was he gonna hurt you? Was he gonna make you clean up your friends dead bodies? What truly was his limits? Because as it turned out.

Raymond wasn’t as predictable as you first thought

////////////

Y’all want some O C S ? Thanks for the request, this was really fun to write. Sorry that it took so long lol. It’s been a while since I last posted ac. Don’t worry, I haven’t completely forgotten about it. I think the next one is gonna be Danganronpa. And it’s gonna be ANGSTYYYY! But yeah 🔊Raymond simps come get y’all juice🔊

#yandere #yandere animal crossing #yandere acnh #animal crossing x reader #ac x reader #yandere raymond #yandere raymond acnh #raymond x reader #tw yandere #tw abduction #tw abuse #tw kidnapping #tw assault #tw murder #tw gore #tw obsessive behaviour #animal crossing oc

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gone-daddy-gone · 4 years

Note

18 with Shinsou please I beg of you

Rating: 17+

Warnings: murder, yandere themes, gore, throw up

Word Count: 5,288

Tags: @the-grimm-writer <3

Prompt: “Cry for me baby.”

The day had an odd air to it that soaked your senses from the second you opened your eyes. It felt colder than usual, even with his arms caging you in. It compelled you to push him off you, make breakfast and clean yourself off from whatever happened last night. You tried to forget the grisly details, glimpse of sweat and purple hair invading you peripherals. So you fought his grip, whispering about how much you loved him and will be back with his food. You're praise had earned you you’re temporary freedom. His large arm relieving you of its weight before settling behind you. A sigh of relief pushed itself out of your raged body before you pushed off the large bed with the palms of your hands. He grumbled at you, looking at you with those empty violet eyes; and for a quick second every punishment you ever received came rushing back to your hippocampus. Luckily, he let them flutter closed again. And another sigh was pushed out.

“You know what today is right?” He asked, waiting till you were almost free of that godforsaken room.

“Y-yes...our...our anniversary?” You tried to make it sound less like an answer and less like a question. You didn’t want your loyalty to be questioned after all.

“Mmm hmm. Why don’t you make me my favorite?” You nodded, shooting him the best half smile you could muster. You hated being docile for him, so much, but you hated when he was angry even more.

The living room had changed some from when you first arrived into your captivity. Originally he had glass and other breakable things to be thrown during a tantrum. Now there was a single couch, adjacent was his rather large TV courtesy of his pro hero money. In the corner was his wall of toys as he liked to call them. A large range from things to shove into you to things to beat you with. Below his sadistic wall was his cage he would put you in when you were in aforementioned tantrums. He preferred to gag and bind you, placing you in that chair till you exhausted yourself out with all the kicking and screaming you would do, the tears would do little to energize you either. He just liked those. That was all he had in his living room, like his whole life revolved around you, which it did. If you stared at it too long, you might just break out into hysterics again, and as much as sobbing uncontrollably on the floor sounded pleasant; you opted to just finish your original task.

Now the kitchen was a much livelier place than that so called “living room”. The kitchen was the only place he let you have free reign, he wouldn’t even grope you, or shove your head into the counter to force himself on you when you were in there. It was like those safe zones you used to have during four corners, back when you were a kid and your only worry was going home and being able to catch the reruns of pokemon. Oh, how the times have changed, now you were making food for the number five hero, praying he’d like it and won’t slap you around for not saying you loved him right.

The daylight was spilling in from the kitchen windows and illuminating the pale floor in a beautiful yellow and orange. Oh, the daylight. You missed that simple privilege of being able to be outside in the morning. Feeling the UV rays cook your skin in the most pleasant way. Walking towards the window, the only glimpse of outside you ever got. You reminisced on when you were first in captivity and tried for hours to break it, a horrible mistake on your part; as he had already thought about it and made sure to put some sort of plexiglass on it thus making it unbreakable. If you soaked in the sun and wallowed in your misery for too long you might just break down. Not that he would be upset, he liked watching you cry, to crumble like an old withered statue. Today might be one of those days, you were almost too suspiciously reminiscent.

Making breakfast was a good break from your surroundings that we’re going to send you into a full fledged panic attack. The eggs reminded you only of eggs, the bacon reminding you about that one video you watched in health class, the one about what they really do to those animals. For that small moment in time, you could pretend that you were a willing participant in your domestication.

Once you had plaited up a mountain of food for the lean hero, you allowed yourself some of the same meal; much smaller in comparison. Holding up both on your forearms, a ghost of your old life taking over your senses.

Suddenly you were back at the Sushi Bar and Ramen restaurant you worked at. Your hair up in a messy bun, four plates of food and two cups of water in each hand. The heat making fat globs of sweat run down your back, beading at your forehead. It all seemed so real, the low rise lanterns casting that oh so familiar orange hue over mahogany tables.

“(Y/N)?” In absolute horror, you turned your head to see your old manager. A middle aged man with ashy hair, golden eyes and a smell of designer cologne faintly in the air.

“What-what?” You began to shake. You weren’t so sure what was happening, but you were more than happy to hear a voice that wasn’t Shinsuo.

“Dear, why are you so shaken? Did that guy come by again?”

“What- I….What guy?”

He made a face of confusion, shaking his head from side to side to signal his displeasure. “The one with purple hair...he’s a hero?” You felt yourself begin to hyperventilate, a sense of dread coming over you.

“I don’t...I was just…he...he”

“Baby? Commer why are you crying.” He began to walk towards you.

“NO! Don’t come near me…” You began to sob, setting the food down and backing up.

“Darlin...what did he do?” You just shook your head, frantic as ever. The mirage was too good to be true, too kind.

“Listen, commer, ok? Let’s talk it out.” He moved towards with you, hands up to show he meant no harm.

“Please...please…” Your withered and beaten body caved under the pressure of your mental psyche, before you crumbled to the ground.

“What’s wrong? What did he do?” His shadow casted over you, words refused to come out of you as you hiccuped a sob. You flinched in horror, and he looked miserable to see you in pain. It was such a beautiful contrast to glee at seeing you in pain. You gave into the illusion and let your body slump itself into him. He cradled you like he used to during a particularly hard dinner rush. Rub soft circles into your back before rubbing the opposite direction into the same spot. You clawed at his arms, reveling in the feeling of his flesh in your nails.

“What is happening? Common, you can talk to me.”

“He...he...I was…”

“You were what?” His voice sounded like home, a place you missed so desperately. You took his hand and rubbed your face into the back of it, smelling the sweet smell of miso paste. Talking was going to ruin this moment, you just wanted to be held by him while you still could.

“He killed me didn’t he.” Your heart and your breathing stopped all at once. If this was a fantasy your brain was cruelly displaying for you, why was your heart racing?

“What...did you just say?” You wanted to make sure you heard him right. Yet you still lacked the courage to look him in the face as he said it. Maybe it was the guilt. Wait what guilt?

“I said that he murdered me. And it’s all your fault.” Your heart was thundering, and your ears were ringing as you brought your head up slowly to look at him. Your breath was shaky when you looked to see Shinsuo staring back at you this time.

“I killed him Kitten...all for you...now come here be good…”

“NO! I won’t!” With all your strength and what little sanity you had left you pushed away from him. Kicking your feet desperately until you were almost to the couch.

“No what?” The intrusion surprised you enough for you to avert your eyes to the offender. The only other person in the house, Shinsuo.

“But...but you were…” You looked feverishly from him to the spot your episode had taken place at, only for there to be an empty spot where there was once a body.

“Are you feelin alright kitten”

Not wanting to have him stay home and “nurse you back to health” you sputtered out a yes I am fine before you clambered up to your feet, still a bit shakin. He must have taken notice.

“Your face is all red and puffy...and you’re shaking like a leaf. Were you crying?” You felt a twinge of disgust as you could practically hear the grin in the way he spoke about it.

“No! I...I just cut myself on a knife and its cold in here…” Those were very obvious lies, not well thought out lies on your part. Which is something he hated when you do. Lie to him. He owned you heart, mind, body and soul. He had made that abundantly clear taking over your mind by force plenty of times. You could feel what was coming next, the complete shut down of your brain by force. Making you prisoner in your own body, mindless to your own actions. The sunken place like Get Out. You could hear him about to form words to take you over, his mouth was already forming them when, by the grace of god you heard his familiar ringtone. Saved by the bell.

“Do not move.”

You didn’t respond, not even in your head, only doing what you were asked. While he was steadily raising his voice in the other room, your mind was going wild. Did he kill him? Why would he do that? You had worked there so long ago after all, he wouldn’t be a threat. But...just how long ago had it been? You gave up counting the days. Shinso never let you near his phone, as if he didn’t have a million and one passcodes on that thing if you ever did get your hands on it. On top of all of that, you had no cable either. No new outlet to let you know what was going on in the outside world. No recent TV shows to watch, no movies to update you on pop culture. All that put together made it quite literally impossible for you to know about his possible untimely death. The episode was obviously meant to feel real, anyone who had the trauma you did would want to create that escape, if only for a minute. But what kind of deranged masochistic person invisions someone saying something like...that. Maybe you were over analyzing it...what reason would he even have for killing him. Like a reason mattered to him, he was one of those “the end justifies the means” type of hero’s, a red flag the public liked to think of as a light blue.

Almost if on cue, Shinso emerged from the dungeon that was your shared bedroom. You gulped and couldn’t fight the instinctual flinch at his seething that seemed to sour the already grim room. He looked at you before he clenched his jaw and shook his head.

“You are lucky, I have to work.” Your fingers dug their way into your palms, scrapping over the scabs, the intensity increasing as he went on, getting ready for his day.

“You do not lie to me, you know that.” The aforementioned scab had finally broken its very fragile seal, and you felt the blood flow out in time with the tears in your eyes. Crescendoing with that sickeningly familiar sense of dread rising in the very core of your chest.

“Get over here, now.” You released your palms from your self inflicted torutre. Almost running over to him, willing to do anything in that moment to appease him.

He just gave you a long look, those violet eyes holding nothing in them against his snow white skin. He breathed out his nose slowly, to anyone that would have seemed like he was trying to take as much oxygen into his system as he could. Not to you, the trained eye. That was his signal that he wanted you to know he was trying his hardest not to beat you.

“You better do dinner right, and after we are done, you’re going to tell me what was going on.” After he was done ordering you around, with a dash of a threat. He forced you into a kiss, capturing your elbows in between both of his pointer fingers and thumbs. You kissed back, hoping your desperation would be mistaken for genuine love.

He slammed the door and you stood there. Stood there breathing in the silence. What was I supposed to say? I don’t even know what I had experienced you thought to yourself. You moved in slow motion to the couch, setting yourself onto the couch. One day, all you wanted was one day where you didn’t get “punished”, for anything. You let your body fall back onto the couch, a heaviness that wasn’t quiet sleep taking over you. Your nose was so stuffed up with snot you could barely make out the smell of eggs still...that smell of eggs.

“Hey! (Y/N), crack this egg and put in the bowl why don’t cha?” You opened your eyes and you were...back in that restaurant…in the kitchen to be exact.

“W-what?”

The young cook, who for the life of you you can’t seem to remember the name of; rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Common toots, I know you aren’t just a pretty face, crack these for the customer while I go flip this meat before it burns.”

You took the egg out of the rude cook's hands, giving him the stink eye. If I was going to hallucinate, why can’t it be people who aren’t snarky. With reluctance, you tapped the fragile shell on the counter before you pulled them apart and watched the egg splash into the broth. You smiled at that familiar sight, enjoying the ripple and all.

“Ya see, that was juuuust perfect.” You watched as he looked up from his meat that he was now cutting into pieces.

“We need it to be perfect...with that customer out there. Thank god he’s in your section.”

This conversation seemed so familiar, like it barely felt like you needed to think about what you were to say next.

“Who?”

He slams the knife down making you jump, the fight or flight mode you’re always in is still active even in your dreams.

“Who? WHO!?” He looks around like someone was going to hear your conversation, or care for that matter. “What do you mean who? You live under a rock or somethin’?”

“No I-”

“EH, I don’t care when you see the customer, you’re going to act like you know him alright?” With no other real choice than to agree you shake your head yes, face contouring into an uncomfortable one.

“Take these and get out of here...can’t you see it’s crowded in here?” You slowly pick up the bowl he had so delicately placed the meat in, and you so carelessly plopped the egg in. Looking around, he was wrong. It was the exact opposite, there was no one but you two in the kitchen. A rarity in any restaurant.

“No...actually I can’t…”

You stared at you, expressionless before he busted out laughing, he kept laughing as he threw his head back and cradled his stomach. He kept going for an inhuman amount of time before he took his knife and slammed it into the cutting board, exhaling the air in his lungs with a sigh eyes upward.

“You know...I get it now.”

You shivered, feeling scared for some unknown reason.

“You get what?”

He smiled, eyes skyward still. “Why he loves you.”

“Who?”

He cast his eyes downwards, not tilting his head just letting his eyes come down to see you.

“You’re a funny thing, you know that.” You didn’t say anything, slowly trying to walk out the door into the main floor. “You killed me…” He let those out with a smile, before walking to you.

“You killed me...and the worst part is we all get why he loves you...but I just…” He was right to your nose, you could smell whiskey and mint on his breath. “I don’t think I can forgive you.”

“I-”

“Wake up.” He shoved you, and you quite literally were pushed back into your body. Rising up from the couch, gasping and clawing at your throat for air. You were panicking, trying to grip onto the cushions frantically looking around trying to ground yourself. After a while you finally got a grip on yourself. Why was this even happening? What did you even do to deserve this? You rubbed your forehead and pushed yourself off of the couch; approaching the kitchen to relieve your dry throat. You took a small glance at and noted that it was now lunch time, and you had been knocked out for at least four hours. Shinso would be calling any minute now. Turning on your heel and retrieving a glass you watched the bubbles of the water form at the top of the glass. You started off with a small swig before chugging the rest down. Your hand seemed to act on its own, as you absentmindedly wiped the sweat off your face. You filled the cup up more before you went to the bookshelf full of Shinso approved books, trying to find one you had yet to read. Then you heard the phone that only received calls ring out, beckoning you into retrieving it. With a sigh you sauntered over and pulled it up to your ear.

“Hello Kitten, how are you?”

“Oh I’m...just trying to pick out a book.”

He hummed happily before responding. “That’s my girl, always trying to better herself. Did you see the new one I got you.”

Your ears perked up at those buzz words. “New one?” You couldn’t hold back the smile that pushed its way onto your face.

He giggled. “Yes Kitten, happy anniversary. I love you.” Your smile faltered at his words, loving someone and being utterly obsessed with someone was two totally different things.

“Happy anniversary, I love you too.”

“Alright Kitten, I’ll see you when I come home for dinner tonight.”

“Ok.�� You hung up the phone, setting it down and letting your face fall. You turned to the bookshelf, scanning over all the books before you landed on the new one. You smiled, letting out a shaky laugh. He could be sweet, when he wasn’t being manic. It was a book from before you were in containment, so you couldn’t get a grasp on reality. You turned it over and went over the reviews before flipping it over and looking at the cover again, only to discover it was a different book. One you read. Oh no.

You shot up and suddenly you were in your bedroom again. Sitting criss cross applesauce from your sister.

“This book should take your mind off of...you know. Picked it up just for you sis!” She beamed at you, and your heart ached. You just stared at her and all her beautiful glory, it had been so long since you'd seen her, or even heard her voice. The only reason you realized you were crying was your sister looking at you in shock, mixing with horror.

“Hey, hey now it’s ok! You’re safe here...you’re safe here.” She wrapped her arms around your torso and pulled your sobbing form.

“Sissy...what’s happening to me?” She furrowed her brows and kissed your forehead, petting your head.

“Nothing baby...just...some boy with too much power had taken a liking to you…” She didn’t know what to say to you to keep calm, to make you feel safe. It was like she was insinuating without insinuating, that she knew where this was going.

“He’s a monster…”

“Oh baby.” She kept stroking your hair, letting you vent all your emotions out.

“It’s not fair! It’s not fair! It’s not faaair!” You screamed into her shoulder.

“Remember what momma always told us.” She knew what she was doing as soon as you turned your sobbing into some suppressed laughing.

“I hate you.” You smiled, wiping your tears and globs of snot off of your face.

“Now that’s just blatantly not true!” She said with a laugh, turning around to grab her wine glass. She took a large swig before looking down at you, meeting your expectant eyes staring back at her.

“You know what happens now right?”

“Yeah…” You said sadly, a part of you is happy that it wasn’t a sad twisted goodbye this time. Maybe your brain just couldn’t bring itself to turn her into a nightmare.

“You need to make dinner afterall…” You nodded and closed your eyes, the last thing you felt was her lips on your forehead. Before you opened your eyes.

You stood back up and walked into the kitchen, four thirty. You laughed, she was right for once. It was about time you made dinner. Shinso’s favorite, ramen. You turned the water on to boil in a few different pots for different reasons. Going into the fridge to retrieve the noodles, the vegetables and your special ingredient in your broth. You got to work chopping, seasoning the broth, and cooking the meat. The kitchen smelt so lovely, you were proud of your forced skill you developed. You were weary at every turn waiting for another hallucination to take over your senses. Weary as you dropped the eggs into the ice bath, weary as you grilled your vegetables, weariest as you dropped the noodles into the broth. Something about them seemed untrustworthy to you. You looked back out the window to be greeted with the sun going down, a deep shade of maroon with just a twinge of yellow outside. It was a calm end to the stormy day. You plaited up the food, throwing the tea kettle on the stove so Shinso could have his favorite tea with his favorite meal. You looked over the bowls one last time, realizing that you forgot to put the egg in. You giggled at yourself, how could you forget the best part? For the second time today (at least in your head) you cracked the egg on the counter and watched it fall into ramen. You smiled at your masterpiece.

“Hey that's pretty good!” You groaned before you turned, and this time it was your best friend who also worked at the restaurant.

“Hey, don’t be dick , I'm being nice to you!” She chuckled out before taking the bowl in front of you.

“I wish you wouldn’t…” You mumbled, watching as she took an ungodly amount of dishes into her arms.

“You just gonna check me out or are you gonna help?” You rolled your eyes and took the rest of the plates.

“Listen pop your tits out I need to pay rent.”

“Girl!...I am not doing that”

“First off, don’t pretend I haven’t seen you do worse.” You glared at her before you mocked her behind her back.

“I can see what you're doing.” She taunted before turning her head only a little bit so she could see you out of the corner of her eye. You just rolled your eyes at her, watching as she set her table's plates down, encouraging you to take the foot out of your mouth and do the same. You snapped out of your stupor and did just that. She said something about you being new and absentminded before gripping your elbow and tugging you in the direction of the kitchen.

“What is your problem?...Is it...you know?” You sighed, why did no one ever say his name?

“You mean Hitoshi?” Almost exasperated.

“You’re on a first name basis with your stalker?” She said inquisitively.

“Oh you don’t know half of it.” You retorted back.

“Oh...don’t like the sound of that. Here, I made you something that will make you feel better!” She exclaimed out loud. You really doubted it. And you gave her that look that meant, you doubted it.

“Don’t look at me like that. Common, I have just the thing.” You reluctantly followed after her, hoping this would be just like the time before. You couldn’t say you were entirely disappointed when you two stopped at a ramen bowl, it looked like your favorite.

“Come on go ahead, I made this one myself.” She said so giddily that you couldn’t help but smile back and obliged her. Letting the large spoon take in the broth, sipping it and letting the warm liquid slither down your throat. It felt good, tasted even better. You smiled and looked at her confused, as she sucked at cooking.

“What do you think?” She urged you to give your review.

“It’s amazing, what did you do to it?”

“You have to guess!” You took another sip, twirling the chop sticks in your fingers to catch some noodles to assist the broth.

“I don’t know...extra ginger?” You asked, genuinely at a loss.

“No! Do you see any ginger? You dense chicken wing.” You looked at her with offence, shaking your head as you shoveled more in your mouth.

“No I suppose I don’t” You scratched your head before taking some of the meat into your mouth.

“Is this wagyu?”

“Yes but that’s not it!” You shrugged your shoulders, signaling your defeat.

“Give up?” She asked eerily quietly. You nodded your head, still absentmindedly digging into your meal.

“The secret ingredient is me.” She said it sounded like a smirk was on her face. Her ominous words caused you to stop mid bite. With shaky hands, you looked from the bowl then back at her, your breath caught in your throat as you realized you weren’t looking at anything. Her neck was clean off of her neck. You began to breathe heavily through your nose, looking to the ground to find her head before you heard.

“Psst, over here.” Coming from the direction of the ramen in front of you. You tried swallowing the food but realized you couldn’t. You turned slowly, gagging before you made eye contact with her lifeless head in the soup. You began to cough, spitting up something that had to be cartilage, something was still in your mouth, so you reached inside, retrieving a long strand of hair from your mouth. That was the final push you needed as you threw up all over the floor, chunks of your best friend getting all over your shoes.

“Do you see now?” You looked up, hiccuping in horror at the severed head speaking to you now. “He killed all of us. In this very shop, right in front of you.” You shook your head, trying to deny it, for your own sanity. “Just look.” Her freaky bulging eyes moved over to the left, and you followed accordingly. You had to cover your mouth to stop yourself from throwing up again. Every person who worked there was dead on the ground, their body parts strewn around like they were those dolls whose limbs popped off. Perhaps, in the most horrible of displays was your manager's body, stomach open, arms sprawled backwards and organs on the outside. The worst part was that his lungs were moving.

“Do you see now? You sleep and kiss the monster who did this to us all those years ago...it’s your fault...its all your fault.”

“No..”

“It's all your fault. It's all your fault. It's all your fault!” “NO! I-I didn’t do this…”

“IT’S YOUR FAULT IT'S YOUR FAULT IT’S YOUR FAULT!”

“NO!” You were screaming now, covering your eyes and crying.

You kept screaming till the only other sound's the tea kettle screaming back at you to ift it off of the burner. You were still crying, standing shakily as you removed it rather violently from the burner. You look at the time, Shinso would be here any minute now, so you cleaned yourself up and put both his tea and ramen down in his spot. Putting your food in yours and sitting down, face stone cold as you stared at the door, waiting for him to come in.

It was a few minutes before he came bustling in, exclaiming about how hard his day was. Right. You said in your head, watching as he took his coat off. He walked over to you and gave you a kiss on your forehead.

“Guess who I saw today.” You didn’t answer him, only looking at him waiting for him to tell you the answer you didn't ask for.

“Chargebolt! Can you believe that? Haven’t seen that kid in-” You tuned him out, the sounds of your best friends screams and blaming you were all you could hear. The stench of death still burns your nostrils too.

“Anyhow Kitten, how was your day?” You looked at him, cocking your head.

“How was my day?” You repeated the question. You thought about it, before you licked your lips and looked him in those cold eyes.

“Fine.” You said, poking at your food like a toddler.

He just hummed in response. Then talking incessantly about this villain he had a hard time dealing with. Somewhere between needing to call backup and him getting punched in the face, you tuned out again. Thinking about how much you wished that could have been you that did that to him. You snapped out of your thinking when he spoke to you directly again.

“What’s wrong? Is it your finger.” You looked back at him, not caring to play this game anymore.

“You killed them, didn’t you?

He made a face that said “whatever do you mean kitten?”, it made you mad. “Who? The villain?” He had the audacity to act dumb.

“My friends...all of them...you killed them...in front of me.”

He cocked his head, before smiling. “I don’t know what you mean Kitten.”

“Don’t lie to me!...Don’t you dare lie to me...I remember it...I remember it all.” You began to sob and shake, staring at him expectantly and angrily before watching him rise to his feet. He tilted his head back before he laughed, long and hard, making you angrier.

“Oh Kitten, of course I did…” You cringed and sobbed harder, tears mixing into the broth below you.

“That’s right, cry for me baby, you know I love it when you do.” You let out a wail before your fingers found their way into your hair again, ripping out the strands.

“I brainwashed you to forget, for a year, every year. Just so I get to see the anger and horror on your face like it’s brand new. You don’t remember any of it all year, until I ask you the phrase “Do you know what day it is?” He said smiling, that cold sadistic smile down at you before he leaned into your face.

“Think about it this way Kitten, I save you from all that pain for a whole year. Aren’t I so thoughtful?” He said with a sinister cackle, and all you could do was sit there and cry.

144 notes · View notes

sugoui · 4 years

Text

— the language he knew.

⁙ with you following in his steps, he knew there was only one way to stop you. ⁙

× soui’s note » im a sad bitch so here’s a sad fic. repost.

p a i r i n g ⇀ park jimin x reader..or more likely, fuckboy!jimin who sees the one he loves fall apart.

t y p e ⇀ angst and light smut..or, is this what you call voyeurism?

w o r d s ⇀ 7,659.

» [ friends to lovers!au ] °˖✧

“Doesn’t it bother you to be alone?”

Through the singing of the birds and the rustling of trees, his nose scrunches in distaste; chopsticks hanging loosely from his fingers as his attention is sparked, and eyes drill into yours within the proximity of the park. Did it bother him? Eyes averting from your curious state, he looks down into his cup filled with ramen, heart twinging in something akin to pain and yet..the sun still grins happily upon the two of you. “I dunno,” he mumbles in honesty, “I’ve never had anyone by my side to begin with.”

He notices you bite your lip at that, eyes glimmering as they try to find any kind of hope for Jimin within the many thoughts of your mind, anything that could change him into moving on to a better him. “But you can try,” you push on, taking a sip from your water bottle. He watches you, watches you turn slightly in your seat as you gasp in pleasure from quenching your thirst — then sighs to himself when you smile softly at the oncoming giggling children running around in glee. “Stop playing around with girls like they’re toys, you know? Find someone who you know will be able to make you feel alive.”

He sighs, resting his elbow on the flat surface of the picnic table as he lays his chin on the palm of his hand, “but you’re the only one who can take that place.”

And he smiles at the way you bark out in laughter, rosy blush staining your cheeks as tears accumulate at the corner of your eyes from Jimin’s absurd words, and his heart flutters.

But the thing is, he wasn’t joking — and there was no way you would ever acknowledge that.

He knew there was nothing wrong with wanting someone by your side, that there was nothing wrong with falling in love and chasing your heart but there was no way he could act on his feelings for you. You’re the girlfriend of one of his long time best friend’s, you are one of his best friend’s and have been since you were children, and upon bro code and the sake of keeping this friendship sane; he refuses to destroy the boundaries, no matter how many times he feels the crippling need to.

He was devastated, heart melting into the acid of his stomach when he had heard you belonged to Jungkook years ago, and he knew there was nothing he could do to tear you two apart, to steal you away and have you in his arms so he could mutter ‘mine’ into the crook of your neck. Because of his shyness, because of his self esteem — he never had the guts to confess to you; he had always believed and imagined many scenarios of you rejecting him or spitting in his face and just the thought of that had the air clogging in his throat. He was a mess, still is a mess, and the day Jungkook invited him out for pizza and suggested that you all move into an apartment together so the circle of three you all tried to uphold throughout the years wouldn’t disassemble into many pieces, Jimin could only laugh wearily as he looked to your brightened face at the thought of finally being united indefinitely — and he accepted, even though he knew it would ruin him in more ways than one.

It started after months of living on cloud nine that Jimin began to think his pessimism was all in his head, but after witnessing the premonition hiding within the shadows of the apartment, things began to softly crumble.

Every night through the thin paper walls, the boy tried his hardest to suffocate his eardrums with his pillows as he forbade himself to hear your muffled moans and tantalizing giggles, demanded his heart to just shut up for once from the decaying anxiety resting in the pit of his stomach that threatened to poison his mind with it’s horrendous fumes. The bed tapping against the wall from the other side made him fragile with every hit, his mind playing a broken record as he tried his hardest to fall into the arms of slumber he desperately sought for. And as time ticked in the back of his mind and repeated the scenario from every other oncoming night, he ripped the duvet off his crumbling body as he stormed out of the apartment — seeking something that would hide his inner turmoil away in the back of his pocket.

He wasn’t proud of it, but it was something that could be easily done; finding a girl, someone as desperate as him to rip off the clothes that suffocated him and just to feel loved. And even though it wasn’t real love, it was enough.

“Where were you?” He remembered that specific night clearly, the apartment lost of any light except for the street lights that flittered through the sheer curtains of the small area as you stood at the corner of the living room, arms crossed and bare feet tapping the floor like some rabid housewife.

He simply shrugged as he walked past you and tried to make his way into his bedroom quietly. He reeked of alcohol and sex, at least he assumed from the way you scrunched your nose in disgust. His hair was amiss, his lips were heavily bruised and he just felt weak, especially when you suddenly gripped his wrist harshly to stop him in his tracks — he couldn’t help but sneer. “Answer me, Jiminie.”

“Don’t call me that,” he grunted as he tried to shake off your hand in the process, “and don’t fucking touch me.”

You retracted your hand as if you had been heavily burnt by scalding water, glaring at the older boy in hurt, but instead, he focused on his previous destination before your voice froze him in his place. “Jimin,” you corrected, “you can’t do this anymore, you’ve been doing this for months. Is this really how you want to fall-?“

“What are you?” He cut in, head tilted to the side in annoyed curiosity. “My girlfriend? I don’t think so.”

He knew his words had slapped you in the face, yet, as he took his first step away from you and towards his bedroom once again, you snatched his wrist with no remorse, pulling him towards you so he could hear your thoughts and not the ones murmuring in the back of his mind — but he was having none of it.

The second your fingers sizzled against his skin, he roughly slammed you into the wall, ignoring the choked and pained gasp that fell from your lips. “(y/n), I’m only going to say this once so you better engrave these words into your pretty little head.”

You tried your hardest to free your bruising wrist from his deadly grasp, but instead, he leaned into you, lips hovering over your cheek as the toxic breath stung your eyes, and the gulp whispering in the center of your throat was heard by the one holding you captive.

“This is my life, and there is no way in hell that you would ever play me like some damn gamer watching over his avatar.” He seethed, lips drawing a portrait onto your skin with every word that spilled from his mouth, “let me live my life, as you should do yours.”

“But-“

His hand moved from your face and his fingers tapped against your lips, stopping you from making another peep; and he grinned. “You can’t expect me to follow after you and Jungkook like some lost dog–“ he scoffed, eyes glaring into your own, “and you can’t expect me to stay during the night to sleep as you two fuck every other night, that’s not how it works.”

He watched you gawk at him as if he wasn’t himself, as if he were possessed by something that caused him to change–and maybe he was, being the demons who caused him to fall in love with the never could be, and now, he had lost himself within the flames of wanting to float on clouds, to escape the reality he was living in..but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

His hand slowly lifted from taking your lips hostage and moved to cup your cheeks, his face softening as his thumb softly smoothed over the soft skin. Your eyes stared through his as they tried to find something, but with Jimin’s bucket of black paint drenching any lasting thoughts within his irises, you sighed, looking away as you placed your hand against his chest and pushed him away softly. “I’m sorry.” It was a weak whisper and your eyes were filled with regret, lips trembling from the small commotion.

But he didn’t want to hear it.

Days went on as he avoided you like the plague; he locked his bedroom door during the day and escaped into the raging strobe lights of night clubs and house parties during the night. Jungkook sent him continuous texts to get out of his bedroom, to spend time with the both of you and to stop his greedy antics of escaping into used hands, and the night he doesn’t leave the small quaint apartment — he dropped onto the lingering chest of the living room couch.

His eyes softly closed at the sound of footsteps tickling the floors of the home after a while of silence, and his heart began to beat a raging tune at finally having to face reality.

The steps soon stopped before him, and he breathed softly. “Jungkook-ah.” He plainly muttered into the leather of the sofa, “what is it?”

“I know about your feelings for (y/n).”

Instantly, the man gets up, eyes threatening to fall out of his sockets as he peered into the orbs hiding behind the black curtain of hair. “What?” He asked softly, scared of you appearing from your bedroom, and terrified of having his feelings written in his eyes as it glowed for everyone to see.

“I know how you are, Jiminie.” Jungkook crossed his arms, face finally being revealed as he ran his fingers through his soft dark locks. And the lone act caused Jimin to internally hyperventilate, because what? He knew he was a coward for fucking around every weekend with someone just to erase his feelings for a limited time, but he had also believed that because he did that, that nobody would find out — but in times like these, he can only wonder if Jungkook could read him like a book, only wonder if his whole existence was written on the back of Jungkook’s hand and that terrified him to death. “I can practically feel the longing oozing out of your body, and lemme tell you one thing.”

“No,” Jimin shook his head and frantically rose up from the couch. “I’m leaving.”

But he doesn’t get to escape, not this time, as Jungkook grabs the boy by the collar of his shirt and slams him down roughly into the fluffiness of the couch. The younger is on top of him like some tiger getting ready to devour his prey; the roles reversed from that day with you weeks ago and Jimin knew at this point, that his useless and drunk self from the past was witnessed by the beyond livid Jungkook, and he couldn’t feel any more ashamed.

There was no use fighting back, his will was lost long ago with his sanity, and with eyelids threatening to shut and look away from possessive eyes, his hands fall limp at his sides. “I know Jimin, I know you’ve been around, slept around. Used like some damn rag over and over again to the point that there are stains, but there is no way in hell I’ll let something as tainted as you blotch (y/n) with your dirtied hands.”

“Jungkook,” Jimin desperately called, small hands clutching the ones wrinkling his shirt. He knew he was a fuckboy messing around to get around, but Jungkook had it all wrong — there was no way in hell that he would ever touch you in those ways, use you as if your friendship meant absolutely nothing, and all in all, try to steal you away from him. “Those are not my intentions.” Jimin got out, but Jungkook’s eyes are written in pure thirst to murder if the opposite were to happen, and he couldn’t help but gulp at the look of pure disgust. “You know as well as I-I do that I’d never hurt her, I’d never do that to you-“

“Like hell you won’t,” the taller boy dug the lanky one further into the couch with a shove, stealing Jimin’s breath away as his chest began to ache from the abused contact, “keep your dick where it doesn’t belong, you ass. I mean it.”

And amidst the park where he sighs from the past, from something that happened months ago with horrid assumptions and lingering regrets, he gets up from the bench with his hands in his pockets — smile swiped from his visage like a hungry frog snatching some bothersome flies. “You’re leaving already?” You ask, the corner of your lips falling to show your displeasure, and he shrugs, because really, this whole meeting with you at the park was all over useless.

Ever since Jungkook confronted him, he hadn’t had the audacity to speak to you or even hang out as the circle of three like old times. There was really no way he could ever go back to how it used to be, and Jimin was sure that soon enough, his image would be ripped away from the couple who aches to be together forever without someone so useless and broken.

Without someone like him.

“There really isn’t much to say,” he admits, looking up to the sky to avoid any sort of expression you draw with the tip of your nose. He could tell that you’re scared, hesitating to tell him anything about the path he chose to walk down on, so you only giggle halfheartedly, leaning into the wooden bench as if all your worries had already fallen into evanescence.

“At least try, Jimin.” You whisper with a tiny tone, but he hears you, feels the worry interlacing with every sound that escapes your lips, “try to love someone with everything you have. Give yourself to them and only them.”

“I don’t know,” he admits, eyes glancing towards your distraught yet innocent figure, “this is the only language I know.”

“How could you do this to me?”

Jimin’s eyes softly open, yawn escaping him as he looks at his alarm clock and soon, the sound of something shattering stabs through the air.

And he flies up from his bed in an instant.

His head is beating like a drum, sending shockwaves of pain throughout his body as he instantly rubs his aching temples. Maybe the sound of danger is just something his anxiety was feeding him, or maybe he just drank too much the night before. Nonetheless, his eyes inhale the blinking 3 AM screen his phone gave him — and he forces himself to check the small apartment.

Darkness fills the small home like water, and with squinting eyes, everything seems normal. His bare feet hits against the hardwood floor with soft taps, fingers tremble as he passes the door laying open to your lifeless bedroom, and he then notices the hallway being way too eerie for comfort. At this time, you and Jungkook are usually sleeping; so seeing the both of you not tangled in sheets was a sign Jimin believed with all his heart that something was seriously wrong.

He walks into the living room where a clock ticks the silence away, and once his head peeks over to the front door — he instantly freezes.

The door is wide open, and Jungkook stares at you with panicked eyes as yours are planted into the ground. You refuse to look up, your lips are shaking as you sniffle and when Jungkook places his hand on your shoulder, you are quick to slap it away with a scoff. “Don’t touch me.“

“(y/n),” Jungkook whispers harshly, obviously trying not to wake the supposed sleeping Jimin whom was already witnessing the whole ordeal, “I was stupid, okay? What more do you want me to say?”

“Seriously?” You spit, taking a step back, “are you fucking kidding me?”

Jungkook sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m sorry, I-..I was insecure. I didn’t know what I was thinking-“

“But there was a reason, wasn’t there?”

Jimin walks a little closer, his heart shushing all his organs as he tries to listen in on the conversation. His eyebrows knit together in concentration, and when the next words manage to crawl it’s way into his ears, the boy could only smile to himself in disbelief.

“I was scared, you know? Scared that one of these days I’d find you in Jimin’s bed, terrified that the both of you would go behind my back. Scratch that, actually, I was drunk as hell and believed you two did it.” Jungkook gulps, his Adam’s apple slipping down his neck before it flies back into place. “That’s why..that’s why I cheated on you.”

Silence.

It took Jimin everything in his power not to storm into the scene and punch Jungkook’s face in. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing after Jungkook had the audacity to pretty much tell him to fuck off many months ago, yet the younger could go along his merry way and do whatever he wanted to you. Jimin was beyond pissed, and as his back presses against the wall hidden from the two at the doorway, your voice finally pierces the atmosphere.

“Get out of my sight,” you whisper shakily, “just leave.”

Jungkook glances your way in pain, and Jimin could feel the inner turmoil happening within the other man in wanting to hug you and beg for you to not leave him, but he doesn’t. He throws his backpack over his shoulder, steps out of the apartment before he bows slightly before you.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, tone weak and fragile, “I’m so fucking sorry, but please, know that I truly do love you.”

Yet, you say nothing to his words, only nodding as you shut the door behind him and lock it down.

Jimin still stands where he is, eyes blown open as he wonders how he should approach you after seeing that. Would you cry? He was your boyfriend of a few years, and best friend of many, and he was now gone, and knowing you for so long — he knew there was no way you would take back someone whom betrayed your trust, and he honestly wouldn’t blame you if you avoided Jungkook for now on. Before he could take a step away from his hiding place, you are standing a few feet away from him, and he jumps in his place. “Shit, I-“

“Did you see anything?” You question, and his heart shatters from the way you seem so broken, so lost and tired from the world you were placed in. He says nothing, eyes reflecting your emotions like a mirror as he bites his lip in sorrow. “I see,” you comment, looking away in embarrassment, “good night, then.”

“Wait,” Jimin says before you could walk back into your bedroom, full on knowing that his next question is way beyond stupid and idiotic but he doesn’t care — he has to know. “Are you okay?”

You raise an eyebrow at the question, and he hopes you didn’t find his curiosity rude nor pathetic, but when you laugh softly as you shake your head; you throw him a thumbs up. “I’m perfect,” you assure him, continuing towards the comfort of your bedroom, “so don’t worry about me.”

He tried not to worry, but he did, and he was going crazy.

Hours, days, weeks went on as he rarely saw you around the shared apartment and he was hoping more than anything that you didn’t do anything insane inside your own bedroom. He knew that the walls haunted you, that the place you called home taunted you with the existence of your now ex boyfriend. He witnessed you wash your blankets and duvets and pretty much anything that could have touched Jeon Jungkook millions of times over and over just so you could erase his existence — and seeing you crumble before his eyes made him feel absolutely useless.

He couldn’t do anything, no matter how many times he wanted to hug you and help you through your heartbreak, he just couldn’t; and the sole reason was because both your languages of love equaled the existence of heaven and hell, the epitome of yin and yang and damn him if he ever changed your perspective on such an innocent feeling.

At least, that’s what he believed.

On one of his usual nights out, his blood ripples from the booming music vibrating within the large house. His head is bopping, hand reaching for the bottle of Mike’s as his friend laughs obnoxiously loud and snatches the soft liquor away from him. “Really, Jimin?” He smiles, “do you really think this pussy shit will have me opening my legs for you?”

Jimin chokes out a dry laugh, snatching the drink from the taller man before popping the lid open, “shut up, Yoongi.”

He takes a large swig of it, loving to feel the sweet yet toxic liquid scratch against his throat before he pulls the glass bottle away from his lips. Jimin clears his throat softly, fist against his mouth to hide any grimace he wore on his face as Yoongi throws his arm around his neck; pulling him into his chest as he cackles. “Jennie is here,” he mutters, grin evident on his features, “talk to her.”

“Uh, I don’t know,” he mumbles to himself, taking a smaller sip, “I need to be loaded before I go.”

And after the words fall from his lips, everything around him drowns into the background. He sighs to himself as Yoongi speaks beside him, obviously drunk off his mind from how much he kept yapping, and Jimin could only let himself embrace the alcohol he drank. It was always like this wherever he went, whether it was a house party or the club or maybe something simple at a restaurant during the middle of the night; Yoongi always nudged him towards a specific someone during their many mischievous spontaneities, and he would blindly follow whatever path he was assigned to for the night, well, if he agreed to it.

Which he always did, considering how wasted he had always became.

“How many would you like?”

Yoongi’s voice snaps him out of his stupor, making the boy smile as he raises his dripping glass of alcohol in the air. “Same as always.”

And before he knew it, crumpled cans lays on the island as his empty glass is already tipped over and forgotten, and his head lays on the tabletop as he tries to find any kind of comfort in the music playing around him. His mind is hazy, he feels lonely, and more than anything — he needs to feel that hole bubbling with black ink be filled with color. He somehow pushes himself away from the stool and the usual anxiety screaming at the back of his head is already drowning in the bubbling mixture of liquor. His movements are sporadic as he tries to find his usual source of drugs amidst the many people intoxicated beyond belief, and once he finds Kim Jennie giving him a look of longing from the nearly packed sofa, he grins.

It was her, it was always her who came stumbling into his arms at the end of the night. She was always there, whether it was smiling into his skin or digging her fingers deeply into his back — it was always her. But he never saw her during those intimate moments, he never kissed her nor breathed promises into her ear as he wished to do so with someone he loved so dearly, and he was okay with it, as was she. She had her motives and he had his own intentions, and no matter how far they differed, in the end, they both needed the same thing. And that was to escape.

But, as time suddenly morphs into slow motion and Jimin stops in his steps as he squints with heavy eyes towards the glowing figure popping through the front door, soon, his façade shatters as realization stabs his heart like a poisonous arrow.. a realization that things never go as planned.

His smile drops, his veins vibrate with horror as he completely forgets about the one with benefits and spins on the heels of his feet, charging up the steep set of stairs of the house like a frightened cat zooming away from it’s predator and ignoring Jennie’s angry screams of his surname.

The hallways are dimmed and few people loitered around as they sucked the other’s face off or just wanted to escape from the chaos rumbling below. He could barely breathe at this point, knocking a random door open as he stumbles inside and slams it shut — back colliding against said door as he slides to the floor with a panicked sigh.

There was no way in hell that you were in the party he always took place at, no way in hell that you barricaded the apartment just to walk right into satan’s sanctuary. You never liked parties, saying there were way too many people for your liking and that there was literally nothing to do than just sit around and waste your time — so Jimin just cannot believe he saw you pushing through dancing crowds all alone in such a dangerous place.

Should he go confront you and take you back to the apartment? Grab your hand and pull you through the chaotic home? His heart wanted to, so badly wanted to push you back into safety but his hazy mind struggled to find leverage within the want and need. Would you try to fight him once he finally showed that he did indeed care about how you were doing? Or would you accept whatever he thought was best for you? Jimin glares at the nicely made king bed, squints at the many teddy bears and the assumed purple blotched colored walls throughout the darkened room, and clenches his fists.

He felt like puking from his chaotic apprehension, wishing he could find any type of answers dangling from the ceiling that could help you into becoming a better you and definitely not an imitation of him. He shouldn’t have drank, he should have stayed home and kept you company because who knew how much pain you were in to stoop so low, even though he doesn’t know if you have fallen, he couldn’t help but worry.

And it was killing him inside.

The doorknob to the bedroom rattles, and all thoughts instantly scream as they hide in the darkest corners of his mind. “Shit,” he says under his breath, head snapping to the door that is about to open, “this room is busy—!“

“(y/n).” He hears a deep voice from the other side followed by your bubbly giggling and satan immediately shoves his fist down Jimin’s throat. He is frozen, staring at the door that softly creaks open and at a loss, he jumps into the closet and closes the louvered doors as best as he could; and holds his breath. “Stop fighting me–!”

“No,” you breathe, and he finally sees you and the mysterious man stumble into the room through the door, bites his lip so hard once the door slams shut and the light disappears. “You can’t m-make me, Taehyung.”

He could see the bright red hair, curses it with his life once it shines from the moon’s luminescence that sheered through the curtains, and inwardly groans. He knew who Kim Taehyung was, someone who grew up with you apart from he and Jungkook and ever since Jimin was a child, he built a sort of rivalry between him and the younger boy due to jealousy. Taehyung was an asshole, at least in his eyes, and he didn’t like the man one bit. But here he is, and with you.

He knew Taehyung cared about you, probably as much as him no matter how much the younger teased you — and a part of Jimin knew he shouldn’t be worried about Taehyung now of all times because honestly, he should be grateful the man dragged you out of the bubbling hell.

Taehyung pushes you into the bed, and you easily fall on top of it as you whine in distaste. “Made you.” He simply comments, plopping beside you and closing his eyes, and Jimin decides that maybe, it would be safe for him to sneak out of the bedroom and head on home without the two of you knowing he was at the party at all.

“I drank way too much,” you mumble into the blankets, and Taehyung lazily grunts a ‘I feel you’ as you turn to look at the man, “should I go home?”

Jimin’s fingers hover over the closet doors, stopping his escape as to not let himself get noticed if you were to leave, and he hears Taehyung sigh. “You shouldn’t have even came in the first place.”

“Shut the hell up,” you somehow find the courage to spit, and the other softly laughs, “I..I just wanted to—“

“Make Jungkook jealous, yeah.” A raspberry fills the room, and the bed softly squeaks, “can’t you just get over him? It’s been about two months (y/n), he’s probably forgotten you and found someone else.”

Silence ensues the small room, and Jimin internally curses at Taehyung’s words because even he himself could feel the punch to his gut. He closes his eyes, praying to the gods to stop your pain, but as always, he is ignored, and you’re already getting up from the bed. “You’re an asshole,” you softly cry, “fuck you.”

Taehyung is quick in sitting up and grabs your wrist despite his drunken stupor, “that’s not what I meant,” he quickly tries to cover, “and you know that.”

“But..” you begin, “but maybe you’re right. Jungkook cheated on me, Jimin can’t even look at me —“ said boy’s mouth falls open “—a-and I have no one left, Tae. They all find me disgusting, they all disappeared because I’m just a germ, and–“

“I never said you were disgusting,” Taehyung whispers, but with your rant, his voice is ignored.

“It just hurts, ok?” You sniffle, wiping your tears with your forearm as you swallow a choked sob. “I don’t know what to do anymore, I feel so useless, should I even–“

“Shut the hell up,” Taehyung interrupts, throwing your previous words back into your face, “don’t you even dare finish that fucking sentence.”

You’re rubbing furiously at your eyes, wanting the tears to stop that you had kept shoved inside a bucket within you and Jimin can’t help but rub at his own eyes to stop them from watering. Seeing you like this, a mess, was really opening his eyes to how much you had upheld alone, and he felt like complete and total shit for avoiding you all this time.

“Then,” you crack out, “then help me.”

Taehyung raises a brow at that, delusional self caught between confusion and just saying yes, “how?”

“Have sex with me.”

Jimin jumps up in shock, head hitting the closet door as he quickly muffles his yell of pain. He could see Taehyung look frantic, staring at the closet with bulging eyes and lips trembling while your eyes stayed glued onto the boy before you. “Hey,” Taehyung says, weary smile on his lips, “did you hear that-?”

“Don’t change the subject, Kim Taehyung.” You bite, and Taehyung runs a hand through his hair, eyes downcast as he tries his hardest to avoid any contact, “answer me.”

Jimin’s teeth stabs into the skin inside his mouth as his fingers tremble. What in the world were you saying? He didn’t want to see any of this go down, he didn’t want to watch you ruin yourself or make any mistakes in trying to forget your love with Jungkook. He is careful as he slightly opens the doors to the closet, wanting to see your expression or even Taehyung’s — but all he could see, was how horrified the latter’s features were.

“(y/n), you know I can’t do that.” He mutters, but your drunk self had smart ass written all over it.

“Huh?” You grunt, hand going towards your ear is if it would let you hear better, “what did you say?”

“This isn’t you,” he speaks up, “we’re both drunk, (y/n), and you’re hurt — I get that.” He states, and your shoulders visibly slump. “I get that you’re in pain, only wanting to forget about what happened but it’ll just be gone for a few minutes; a few minutes that you’ll never get back until the pain comes back once again. Do you really want that?”

Jimin applauds Taehyung in his head, thankful that at least the man had a brain during these difficult situations. Your sniff then gets Jimin’s attention, and Taehyung quickly sits up before you. “Y-you’re a liar.” You croak, “y-you said that you’d always do anything for me since we were children, and—“

“But not this,” Taehyung is desperate, hands cupping your cheeks to wipe the trickling tears away, “please, (y/n), anything but this.”

With Jimin’s better view, he sees you smile softly as you push Taehyung’s hands away as they hesitantly fall back to his sides, watches you wipe your own tears away with your hands as you then rub the damp skin on your skintight dress. “Thanks for everything, Taehyung.” You say, bowing slightly as you hold in a choked sob, “goodbye.”

And as you weakly turn to the locked door to take your leave, Taehyung grabs your shoulder and turns you to him. His front was absolutely destroyed, and enigma paints onto his skin as bright as the color of his hair. Jimin knew at this moment that the boy had broken at seeing his best friend ruined, and that the events that were about to occur would change the future — and probably not for the good.

Your breaths are soft as your eyes glances to the hands loosening the straps to your dress on your shoulders, you sniff when the simple cloth glides down your arms to reveal your breasts, and large hands grip your shoulders as the dress drops dead on the floor to reveal you in all your glory for both boys to see.

“No,” Taehyung murmurs, “I should be thanking you.”

Calloused skin touches your bosom, and you whine softly from the foreign grope. Jimin doesn’t know what to do but watch, watch Taehyung look at you with so much adoration Jimin believed he never had and just watch euphoria spear into your veins. It isn’t long until Taehyung dives in to kiss you, to let his hands wander around the soft expanse of your body as he pulls you in close, and all Jimin can do is watch.

He wanted more than anything to ruin the doors from it’s hinges and rip Taehyung away from you, he wanted to do so many things and stop the atrocity happening before him but he just couldn’t. He is glued into his place, eyes averting here to there and the demons inside him giggles into his ears.

The boy felt pathetic, useless as time ticked above his head and Taehyung is now ramming into you like there is no tomorrow, literally making you grip the sheets beneath you and scream into his bruised lips. Maybe it was hours, no, possibly years that roared on and the ending was no where in sight, and all Jimin could feel..was useless.

His heart was palpitating, he was in pain and he couldn’t do anything to stop it, to stop you and your decisions, to stop his disgusting ass from getting hard just by seeing you cry and writhe beneath Taehyung.

When you two finally stopped, the sun was waking up from it’s slumber, and Jimin shoves the closet doors open only to find you both naked on the bed. Taehyung is hugging you as if he were scared to lose you, and you hugged him back in your slumber and the lone image sparked reality within him that he couldn’t help but cry silently.

He finally closes his eyes, opens the door to the hallway and just all over breathes the air that could probably help him be sane. And as he walks down the stairs, he sees Jennie standing there with her back to the wall and her arms crossed, bitch face on full blast as she scoffs. “Pathetic,” she sneers, and Jimin only grins.

“Shut up,” he spits, “it’s none of your business.”

With hands shoved in the large pocket of his hoodie, Jimin walks down the streets of the busy city with only one destination in mind.

The incident at the party happened weeks ago, and Jimin noticed you disappearing from the apartment more often now. He didn’t like the path you were walking down on, and he could only briefly wonder if this is how you felt when the roles weren’t reversed. Ever since that day, all the boy could do was watch you from afar — going back to phase one and never moving an inch from it. But, despite that, there was one thing he learned from the fate he had to face, and that was..expect the unexpected.

Like now.

“Okay, do me a favor.” Jimin says after he takes a sip of his coffee, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he peered at the one before him, “you want me to what?”

“Help me,” the man clad in dark wear begs, burgundy beanie hiding his hair, “help me get back with (y/n).”

Jimin is flabbergasted, and maybe he expected this and possibly more, but still, it shook him to the core. The bells to the coffee shop jingle as more passerby lost the battle between not wasting money and the scent of delicious coffee, and Jungkook could only look to the door frantically in hopes that it wasn’t the only person he desperately wanted to see.

Which is obviously you.

“You have balls, you know that?” Jimin comments, sinking into his seat as he leers at Jungkook, “after what you have done; you expect her to fly into your arms and forgive you. Crazy, you know?”

“I know,” Jungkook sighs, and at this moment, Jimin actually takes a chance to inspect the younger man more. His eyes are darker than before, skin pale and body thin — he looked sick, yet, he still stood strong. Jimin knew that the break up wasn’t easy for both of you, hell, he even watched you two fall in love through the years. He knew it, but what he believed, was that the one sitting before him, is beyond feeble. “I know I did wrong, but just one more chance, and–“

“You do know,” Jimin cuts him off, “that she’s seeing Taehyung, don’t you?”

Jungkook’s mouth falls open, and as hard as he tried to reply to Jimin and just find words, he doesn’t. A frown crawls onto his visage, and Jimin’s eyes glide to the fists clenching too hard for comfort. “You’re lying,” he growls, “she would never do that–“

“I heard them, Jungkook.” Which technically isn’t a lie, considering he had front row tickets to the porno. “Things change, and you’re just too late.”

Jungkook’s coffee shakes in his hands and he grits his teeth, eyes lost into another dimension as his anger bubbles in the pit of his stomach, “I’m gonna kick his ass.”

Jimin chokes a laugh. “No, you definitely won’t.”

“Then help me,” Jungkook pleads, and Jimin can’t help but see you once again; vision from the past replaying inside his mind like a mantra, “please, hyung — just this once.”

The older scrunches his nose, eyes draping to a close like curtains as he laughs in irony, “you do know you’re asking help from the one person that should be a threat to you, right?”

“I–“ Jungkook starts, words in a jumbled mess before Jimin raises his hand for his old roommate to shut his mouth.

“I won’t help you.” He then leans in closer, voice soft yet stern as he stares deeply into Jungkook’s eyes, “if you really love her, if you actually want her back — then you should prove to her why you are worth another chance. Don’t be asking anyone for help, when it’s your mess to clean.”

The rest of the evening goes by in silence, just the two boys drinking their coffees and eating their pastries as the evening rush zoomed by the shop. Jimin knew he was being harsh, maybe a little selfish, but he felt it in his heart that the words he spoke needed to be said.

As the car slides into the entrance to the large apartment building, Jimin thanks the other before he opens the door, and stops when Jungkook’s defeated voice slithers into his ears. “If you won’t help me, then do me this one favor.”

Jimin turns in his seat, annoyed expression stamped onto his face as he inwardly groans. “What is it?” He questions, and Jungkook grips the wheel.

“Help (y/n) pick up the pieces, protect her.”

And usually, he isn’t one to listen to others’ demands, yet here he is.

He watches you in the dark of the night as you tiptoe around the apartment, hears the soft little taps of your feet against the hardwood floor as you try your hardest to slug yourself to the front door of the home. Jimin could smell the intense aroma of the alcohol you had been downing, and before he even had a chance to acknowledge what he was doing, the light flickers on and he is met with your terrified eyes.

“Ah, Jimin–“ you smile, standing still, “long time no—“

“Where are you going?” He asks, obviously not caring about the small talk you were about to throw at him.

The face you had on was similar to a child being caught stealing cookies, and you look to the ground in regret, “to a party with Taehyung.”

Jimin shivers.

He takes a deep breath, knowing whatever happened at that moment would definitely affect your friendship together in the future, but Jungkook’s words constantly echoes in his head. “Not anymore, you’re not.”

“Jimin,” you laugh, “what’s gotten into you?”

Running a hand through his unruly locks, he steps closer to you. “(y/n), you’re becoming everything you told me not to become.” He blurts, “seeing you so, so–“

You step closer, scowl decorating your mien with each passing second. “So what, Jimin?” You press, “you don’t seem to understand–“

“You don’t seem to understand, (y/n)-ah.” He points, pushing you softly, “you’re messing around with guys you shouldn’t be, you’re drinking way too much and you’re soul is just disappearing each time you leave this house!” Jimin yells, and you flinch from the tone, “I can’t let you leave anymore, not now, not ever.”

You grimace, many questions written on the tip of your tongue yet you don’t spout any of them, only tilting your head softly to the side in obnoxious curiosity. “What are you, Jimin?” You inquire, eyes sparkling with vigor, “my boyfriend? I don’t think so.”

Jimin stands there stupidly, being reminded of the words he had so blatantly stitched into your ears many months ago, and like always, all he could do is stand there and watch you slowly leave in victory. How could he have failed in his mission to stop you? Was he really that flimsy?

But, in seconds before you were able to actually open the door and leave, Jimin finally relies on his logistic side and throws his heart away; runs through the living room and tackles you into the ground as if his life depended on it. You yelp in surprise before the harsh smack of the floor slaps your intoxicated mind into soberness, and you’re trying your best to push Jimin off of you. “What the fuck,” you sscowl, “get off me!”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Jimin cries, grabbing both your arms and pinning them above your head as he lies on top of you, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me most, I’m sorry I pushed you away when you tried to be there for me, I’m just..I’m so fucking sorry (y/n), please understand that.” He is shaking before you, but there was no way in hell that he’d let any sort of tears fall — because right now, it wasn’t about him, but about you. “I promise I’ll be here for you for now on, but just please, please stop going with Taehyung and ruining yourself even further-“

“Then what am I supposed to do, huh, Jimin?” You scream, “there is no where else that I can go to, I don’t know how to heal or move on, and–“

“The fuck? I’m your best friend, (y/n),” he chokes, his bangs tickling your chin as he bows his head, “you can just stay with me, I’ll show you how to move on!”

He is way too frightened to look at you, but when he feels your small hand against his cheek, he instantly glances into your eyes. “You’re way too selfless, Jiminie,” you whisper as your lids softly close, to which he leans in closer to your lips, “but..show me.”

He gulps

“Show me this language you once knew.”

» all rights reserved © s u g o u i — this is a oneshot, and will remain a oneshot. all and any works created by me in the past or in the future are not allowed to be modified, reposted, or translated in any shape or form.

#bts #jimin x reader #bts fanfic #jimin smut #jimin angst #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bts reactions #jeon jungkook #park jimin #kim taehyung #bts oneshot #jimin oneshot #bts smut

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tigerseye46 · 3 years

Text

Fighting But Failing

Hey. Remember when I said I was working on possessed Pigsy stuff. This isn’t the confrontation I mentioned but this is something else. I’m sorry Tang and Pigsy.

Possessed Pigsy Masterpost

TW: mention of blood, mention of injury, possession, manipulation, forced behavior, has some non-consensual elements (more specifically non consensual kissing.)

Pigsy screams as the White Bone Spirit continues to possess him, he’s lost in his mind, trapped by chains he can’t escape from. He sees what he’s doing to Tang, sees what he’s doing to his kids and he sees what he’s doing to his brothers, rage boils in his chest. All he can do is observe, the spirit has a hold on him now. The spirit smirks at him, he glares back in response.

He feels himself turn and wrap his arms around Tang’s waist. “Mornin’ love.” The words that come out from his mouth aren’t his.

“Mo-morning.”

“How’s my beautiful future husband doin’?”

“I’m okay…”

He sees himself kiss the back of Tang’s head and he notices Tang flinch. He hates himself, he allowed this to happen, he allowed himself to be possessed and now everyone is suffering the consequences.

What does Tang think of him? What would master think of him if he knew? What if Tripitaka already knows? What if he’s somewhere safe in Heaven completely disgusted at the actions of his second disciple? He has every right to be. Pigsy is disgusted with himself. Yet no matter how much he tries, the chains only get tighter especially when the White Bone Spirit casts illusions in his mind to make him give into his desire quicker. He knows they aren’t real but he can’t help it. It’s all he’s ever wanted, to be loved, appreciated, cared for, even if it’s for a single moment, even when the illusion shatters and the White Spirit lets out a cackle, leaving him broken and full of regret, he can’t help it.

How can he when an illusion of Tripitaka holds his face and tells him he’s wanted him since the very beginning? That he’s always loved the pig, that Wukong is never what he wanted, how despite his flaws he loves Pigsy so deeply and sweetly that their separation stings and how he begs for them to be reunited again.

How can he when a vision of Tang teases him and doesn’t look at him with fear in his eyes? The vision of Tang stares at him with devotion and passion. A Tang that kisses and tells Pigsy that he’s going to be happy with their life together, being assured that he isn’t forcing the scholar to stay with him.

How the feelings are clear and he can pretend that they both want him. He can get his happy ending if he lets this happen, lets the White Bone Spirit do her thing even if civilians get hurt. He shakes his head because how can he even think that?

“Darlin’, where’s the outfit I gave ya?” The conversation snaps the pig back to reality, he hates the frightened look on Tang’s face.

Tang tenses at the nickname. “I don’t know…”

“Didn’t ya just have it?”

“Mhmm… I… um… don’t really like it.”

He bends down to observe the scholar, the human takes a step back from him. “But you would look beautiful with it on. It would be fittin’ with me as the king and you as my queen.” He kisses the human’s hand.

“I know but… it’s- it’s uncomfortable.”

He sighs and rubs his face. “Fine. You can wear whatever ya want for today. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“T-thanks.”

“If you want to thank me, you could give me a kiss.” Tang winces and leans in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Not there, dear.” He kisses him on the lips and grips his waist to make sure the human doesn’t move. Pigsy wants to throw up, he tugs on the chains in a futile attempt to get himself free.

When they separate there’s a tear running down the human’s cheek. He wipes it away quickly and his hands ball into fists. “Can I just stay in bed?”

“Sorry, babe, but I want to spend the whole day with you.”

“Gr-great.”

“Well I do have to get our kids at some point. That can wait until later.”

They reluctantly go through their day with Tang flinching every time he’s touched by the pig.

Pigsy can only watch as his possessed body flirts with Tang, making him uncomfortable in every way, shape and form.

The White Bone Spirit strolls up next to him, her eyes full of glee and her arms behind her back. “You seem to be enjoying this.”

He narrows his eyes and attempts to lunge at her but she teleports and appears behind him. “I AM NOT! I WOULD NEVER TREAT TANG LIKE THIS!”

“But you want this, don’t you? Think about how terrified he is.”

“I KNOW THAT!”

“It’s so fun to watch this happen. Tear your little group apart. All I need is your master.”

“DON’T YOUR DARE TOUCH HIM!”

“Oh, I won’t. That’s your job.” She winks and walks a few steps away, her back turned. “I’ll let you have your fun for now before I take over more.”

“I won’t let that happen!”

She snaps her fingers. “Won’t you? The chains only get worse.” Her cackling is heard again and she disappears to wherever it is.

He hyperventilates and focuses on the screen in front of him, he knows an illusion will appear soon. The scene in front of him is painful, he hovers over Tang, closer than the scholar is comfortable with and he can see his hands fidget to prevent himself from pushing the demon away and dealing with his anger. He can’t watch. When he turns away from the scene, there is Tripitaka. He yelps and takes a step back, the action just makes his “master” step forward.

Tripitaka gives him a sickeningly sweet smile. “Bajie!”

Tears run down the pig’s cheeks, his bottom lip quivers. When he’s face to face with Tripitaka, the monk places a hand on his cheek and he just leans in. “M-master.”

“Oh, I missed you.”

He bitterly laughs. “I saw ya just the other day.”

“Well, that is different.” Pigsy nods and his head turns back to him and Tang. He has Tang on his lap, his hands caress the scholar, he can see him holding in his breath. Tripitaka grips his face and forces him to look away from the scene. “Focus on me, love. You are making me jealous.”

“Jealous?”

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously. You’re in love with that scholar, he does take some of your attention away from me. Although, I know how important he is to you and I know no one can take your heart aside from us two. You’re mine.”

“There’s no reason to be jealous. I love you both the same! But aren't ya disgusted?”

“Disgusted? Why would I be?”

“Because… because… I’m not in my right mind! You see how I act! I’m forcin’ Tang to be with me!”

“I would never be disgusted by you. You aren’t forcing him to be with you at all. He loves you. I love you. You know this. You are doing what we want. Taking us away from that despicable monkey. All I need for you to do is take me away. You’re strong enough to do it. Too bad you got to the scholar first.” He grins. “But I am patient and I will wait.”

“I… I…. I love you too. I’m tryin’.”

“I know and it makes me love you even more.” The words poison his mind. “You know when we see each other again, I want you to show me the world, the world we will build together with you as the king. A place for us and only us.”

His eyes sparkle at a world only for them. “It’s all for you,” he admits in a whisper. “Everything I do is for you. It’s all dedicated to you.”

Tripitaka beams and kisses him. “I’m glad.” He melts at the contact, he knows this isn’t right yet his mind is broken. He’s using this illusion as an outlet, if his master ever knew he would hate him for the rest of eternity, not like the monk doesn’t already hate him. The monk hates him for his stupidity, getting them captured every single time even when the monk puts on an air of niceness, he’s aware how fake it is so he gives into the trick because this Tripitaka won’t hate him, won’t turn him away, won’t rush towards Wukong and call him his savior.

The pig can hardly recall a moment when he was fighting back against the mirages. Had he even fought against them at all? He thinks he’s did, he’s not sure though. He thinks he used to turn them away after the first time then he only fell deeper and deeper.

When he’s kissing Tripitaka, he feels a pounding in his skull, he holds his head and hisses. The vision disappears in a mist and the White Bone Spirit appears again. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing you like that.”

He puts a hand over his mouth to muffle the sobs. “Shad-Shaddup.”

Her chin juts out and she comments, “It gets easier each time. You hardly question it when one of them appears, you hardly fight and you know the best part?” She kicks his back when she doesn’t answer, leaving her foot on it. “Do you?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he answers in a low growl.

“Too bad. I barely have to do this either but your reactions are too cute,” she mockingly coos. “You’re so desperate and it makes tearing you apart even more worth it. I’ll let you have your fun for a few more days before I enact the rest of my plan.”

“I won’t let you!”

“You already have. You’ve given me the reins and I will bring the era of the Monkey King to its knees.”

“Leave my brother alone.”

She ignores him and gestures to the screen, his eyes widen. Somehow in the midst of all of this, he has left the castle and is now fighting his older brother. There are words and blows exchanged, nasty words spill out of his mouth, he goes on and on about how much he hates the monkey and he sees his brother bite his lip.

At one point he says, “Remember what I said last time? That ya should have stayed gone. We hardly need you anymore. You’re useless.” Then he uses his newfound ice powers to freeze part of Wukong’s arm. His brother flinches, more from the words than the blow and he breaks his arm free.

“Bajie…” The monkey can’t even get a word in before the possessed pig charges and charges, Wukong barely manages to dodge every time.

He’s trying to stop himself from hurting him, it never works. He might be angry at the monkey but he never wanted this. He never wanted to hurt him. The whole scene makes his stomach twist. What if there’s the smallest possibility that Wukong won’t be able to dodge in time?

The fight ends when Wukong smacks him in the face with the staff, he holds his nose, blood dripping from it and bruises littering his body. He sees Wukong cover his mouth. Pigsy narrows his eyes at him, leaving with one last scowl and curse.

As he goes to retreat to the castle, Wukong attempts to grab him until he freezes his feet and returns back to his home.

Tang spots him from the top of the stairs, his mouth wide open. All Pigsy wipes his nose and kisses Tang, apologizing that he failed and promising to win next time. He forces the scholar to patch him up.

The White Bone Spirit laughs menacingly. “So close. Not really but a good job on the effort.” He only growls at her. “The problem is you’re still too weak. A few more days then I’ll deal with your brother myself.”

He grits his teeth and lunges at her. She does her vanishing act same as usual. His head rings and his mind goes black.

Everyday he drowns in the sea of lies, of illusions, letting himself fall little by little until his mind is broken. He is fighting but failing, just what the White Bone Spirit wants.

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vannahfanfics · 3 years

Text

Unpredictable

Category: Drama

Fandom: FullMetal Alchemist

Characters: Envy

Hey, everyone! I’m happy to finally present the piece I wrote for the @devilsplaygroundzine, which centers on Envy!

The flickering orange tongues of the crackling fire several yards away reflected in Envy’s eyes as he crouched in the dirty, dank alleyway. It was one of the many neglected nooks and crannies that abounded the Ishvalan slum encroaching upon the outer rim of Central City. It truly was a miserable place, Envy decided quite early on in strolling around; nothing but ramshackle hovels and ash-choked firepits and rank outhouses.

It was also the perfect domicile to have himself a bit of fun. Lounging around in those stinking sewers torturing the chimeras had grown quite dull. Thus, there Envy was, hunching down in the darkness opposite a small hovel watching as the Ishvalan refugees obliviously went about their business. It was a family, parents with a daughter who could be no older than five. They kneeled beside the fire, above which several sticks of freshly-caught trout were just nearly roasted; their hands pressed together while their heads bent in prayer. Envy sneered at the notion. So stubbornly, they clung to their God, which had allowed them to be massacred like sheep among wolves. I suppose they have to believe in something, lest they fall into despair.

That’s what Envy found so infuriating about humans, their unyielding tenacity and nauseating bonds. It’d be so much easier if they just wallowed in self-pity and defeat. The Homunculi pitted them against one another, and then suddenly, they’re preaching forgiveness and empathy. Envy’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as the image of a certain blond-haired, golden-eyed, loud-mouthed twerp who so embodied those ideals materialized in the gloom. Go away, FullMetal brat, he growled silently and waved a hand to banish the phantasm. It dissolved into dust, joining the thin coating on everything in the miserable slum.

Forgiveness and empathy could only last so long, however, until indomitable rage consumed them. Sneering roguishly, Envy crawled on all fours towards the humble little family, while his body morphed into the likeness of an Amestrian soldier. I’ll destroy it, he swore. I’ll destroy the hope and togetherness you covet so much!

“Good evening.” Envy froze mid-step when the Ishvalan man suddenly addressed him. It wasn’t right. Why was the monk not cowering in fear? The Ishvalan’s hands calmly rested upon his lap, and his white eyebrows curved slightly from the welcoming smile adorning his face. Still half-cloaked in shadow, Envy’s false blue eyes were wider than the full moon shining above. The mother had not even moved to protect her child. She ignored Envy and poked at the embers to send the dying fire gushing up once more. The flames licked greedily at the underbellies of the fish, charring the flesh. One, two, three… four, he counted blankly, though he knew not why. It wasn’t right, not at all. Where was the fear? The hate? The despair?

Why the hell were they smiling so contentedly, dammit?

“You must be tired from your patrol,” the man continued. Envy’s wits trickled back through the dam that had blocked the river of his mind. Patrol, yes. He was wearing the skin of an Amestrian soldier. It would make sense that he was patrolling the slum. Envy’s gold eyebrows quirked when the monk gestured to one of the cooking trout. “Please, we have one to spare. Help yourself.”

Envy was utterly flabbergasted. I don’t understand. I don’t understand. Ishvalans should hate Amestrians, especially the soldiers that mercilessly murdered their people by the thousands. Envy remembered it so well, corralling them to mow them down with machine guns, driving bayonets into long-dead bodies, children and mothers and even hardy men wailing in terror. This man should be slamming him up against the dirty brick wall, driving a fist into his jaw while the mother screamed and held her crying child. Yet, he was… inviting Envy to eat with them? He didn’t understand it, none of it.

Especially the fact that he wanted to agree.

Envy regarded the man suspiciously. Perhaps it was a trap. Yes, that’s what it could be; lure him in a false sense of security so his fellows could strike at Envy from behind. What a fun alternative. They could stick his back with so many daggers that he looked like a blood-soaked porcupine; it didn’t matter. Envy wouldn’t die. He found himself grinning at the bloody slaughter that would follow. Sure, old man, he cooed in his demented mind. I’ll play your game.

Envy smoothed the creases of the fake uniform before strolling over to the fire. The little girl’s red eyes bored into him as he knelt before the flames. Envy plucked the charred trout from the sand and scrutinized it. The scent of smoke and salt and even a few seasonings wafted up his nose, and despite himself, his mouth watered. One would think with their status, the Homunculi would eat well, but only Pride and Wrath had that honor. The rest of them had to go scrounging around like common urchins. Envy felt a little silly for salivating so excessively over some smoked trout, but his growling stomach soon overrode any prideful inhibitions.

“Thanks, old man,” he grunted before tearing his teeth into the succulent flesh. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when the flavor exploded over his tongue. A hell of a lot better than the plain slop he stole on the daily around Central. Within seconds he was ravenously shredding into the fish. He paused, juice and bits of scale and meat dripping from his chin, as the Ishvalan laughed heartily.

“I knew you had to be hungry. A soldier’s duty is a demanding one.”

“Oh yeah?” Envy asked, eyebrow creeping up his forehead. He wasn’t quite sure where the monk was guiding the conversation. His ears pricked, listening for the sound of shuffling in the surrounding darkness, but he could not discern the presence of a potential surprise attack. The man’s kind face revealed no hostile intent. Envy finished off the fish and tossed the white bones into the fire, then began picking his teeth with the skewer. “Old man, I don’t get it.”

“Get what, young man?”

“Don’t you hate Amestrians?” A confused look passed over his face. For the first time, the woman stiffened and reached over to grasp her daughter’s hand. Envy watched, internally squirming with glee, as the man’s brown face sagged into sadness. Yes. Get sad. Then hate me. Then try to kill me, you foolish, predictable little human.

“No,” he contradicted, and Envy’s mouth fell agape. “I do not hate Amestrians.” Envy thought that surely, he must be lying, but it was hard to believe that when the older adult flashed him a soft, genuine smile. He did not care to elaborate, either; he just took his fish from the fire and calmly consumed it. Envy stared down into the orange flames. He had seen so many of them in his lifetime, gigantic white-hot flames that destroyed everything in their path - homes, crops, people - indiscriminately. Envy’s eye twitched as he struggled to comprehend the human monk.

I don’t understand. How can humans just so easily extend their hands and say, “it’s all right?”

Envy turned his head at the distant sound of screams and wails, rapidly growing closer. The end of the street was glowing auburn, just like the fire casting light upon his pale face. Little golden lights began to bob amongst the gloom, their ovoid forms growing with each passing second. From the darkness came frightened Ishvalans, tripping over their sandaled feet in a terrified effort to escape what was approaching. One of them, a twenty-something, stumbled and landed in the dirt on his belly behind Envy. The Homunculus stared disinterestedly at his hyperventilating form, while the monk scurried to his side. “What is it? What’s happening?”

“Amestrians!” the boy gasped. Envy’s mouth twitched into a sneer, which he hid in his palm. “An entire mob stormed across the river to the west with torches and weapons,” he sobbed and covered his head when a building a few houses down exploded. Scorching wood and glass bits rained down upon them. A few of the sharp objects sliced into Envy’s skin; the Ishvalans were too busy panicking to notice the small red lightning that skittered over his healing flesh.

“They must be angry about the fishing party earlier today,” the mother whimpered and hugged her daughter into her bosom. The little girl’s red irises swam in a sea of white. Envy stared thoughtfully at the skewer, then flipped it in his hand to brandish the pointy end. The monk had just finished bustling the man to his feet when he turned to Envy, who was languidly rising.

“You must leave. A single soldier cannot quell this hateful mob alone.”

“And what? You think a pacifying monk can?” Envy leered. The man winced; Envy had hit the nail of his intentions on the head. The next building erupted into flames, sending the shriek of hot wind and agonized screams into the air. Envy could leave, if he wanted to, and watch the slum burn from the tops of Central Command. He stared thoughtfully at the pointed wooden stick in his hand.

I don’t understand it, he thought once more with a small sigh. I really don’t, these humans and their kindness. However, he grinned seditiously, and his skin began to morph, the visage of the Amestrian soldier falling away to reveal his skinny and long-haired self. I understand the Amestrian’s hate perfectly fine. The family was finally cowering in the entrance of their little hut, which was no more than some cloth draped over some stacked boxes.

“Mister,” the little girl squeaked. She jumped when he turned his eyes on her. “What are you?”

“Oh, me?” he grinned and dramatically placed a hand over his chest. “I’m a monster.”

“What are you going to do?” the monk asked him with narrowed eyes. Envy shrugged and began strolling off toward the fiery carnage. The Ishavalans were attempting to throw pails of water onto the burning houses. Within seconds the angry mob of Amestrians cornered them and began beating them with sticks and fists. Envy sneered. So unpredictable yet so predictable. What a dichotomous breed. “What are you going to do?” the man yelled after him insistently, and Envy tossed a bored look over his shoulder.

“Me? Well, I’m going to do what monsters do best.”

It didn’t take long. Humans were just frail sacks of blood and meat. Still, a casual bloodbath was preferable to an actual challenge in this case. Constantly regenerating was exhausting and annoying. The Homunculus came strolling back to the little hovel, where the family still huddled inside shaking. His body still sparked to heal the bloody knife wounds he had incurred. Envy stopped in front of the shack and dropped the skewer in front of them. It was now dyed red and dripping with blood, just like his body. Their equally red eyes beheld it with a mixture of awe and horror.

“Thanks for the fish, old man,” Envy smirked and turned on his heel.

“Wait!”

Envy’s eyebrow raised as he looked over his shoulder. The little girl stumbled out, ignoring her parents hissing at her to get back into the tent. Envy’s eyebrow climbed higher when she offered him a little white weed flower. Her hands trembled as she crushed the green stem in her small fist. “Thank you for saving us.”

“Heh,” Envy grinned and took the flower from her. “Don’t thank me, squirt. I was just having some fun.” With that, he whirled on his heel and melted back into the darkness. Eventually, the slum fell behind him, replaced with dark woods. As Envy strolled along the path, he gazed thoughtfully down at the little flower, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger.

Humans, he frowned and tucked the flower behind his ear. So unpredictable… I hate them for that.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#envy #fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood

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hertzwritings · 4 years

Text

A new perspective chapter 3

A/N: I cannot express how much I’m loving the response and feedback on this, so I’m not even going to try. I hope you’ll stick with it! Please know, I’m reading every single comment, checking every reblog and squeaking with glee every time I see a like. It means a lot, that you guys love it – since this is a sideblog, I can’t answer all your comments, but know I’m seeing them and my cheeks hurt from smiling!

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Geralt Of Rivia masterlist

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Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Modern!Reader

Warnings: language, Geralt being Geralt

Previous chapter

Chapter 3: caught in a landslide

You were hyperventilating, trotting slowly after the whitehaired man. He was trying to lead you gently but firmly, through the forest – while keeping an eye out for deadly creatures and your very sensitive feet. “Not long.” He murmured, casting a quick glance behind him, searching for you. You held up your thumb. He looked confused, but didn’t comment on it, merely kept walking – you sighed deeply and tried to keep up. ‘

At least you had a good view of a leather clad butt, and honestly, you couldn’t be annoyed at that - not even in your weird situation.

The trees thinned out and the sun shone through the sparse leaves, shining down on a big, old-looking house (house? It seemed bigger), where plenty of noises came from. At least the man in front of you didn’t bring you to get murdered. That would be hard with an audience. You stopped to catch your breath, but the man in front of you kept going, not seeing you literally on the verge of death and at least ten blisters. Typical.

“Excuse me?” you were winded, more than you’d like to admit, and he turned with an eyebrow raised. He didn’t even look a little flustered by all that walking. Maybe you should’ve kept that gym-membership.

“Coming?” he asked gruffly. You nodded but held up a hand as he made to turn and start walking again. “In a second, I just… need… to catch… My breath.” He looked at you confused. “Socks… Not the best hiking-wear. Also, I don’t hike. I barely walk. I have a couch, no need for walking.” He rolled his eyes, but stood his ground, waiting for you to stop doubling over and holding your ribs – everything hurt. If this was how people who ran for fun felt, they must be sadists.

“What’s your name?” you asked him, trying gingerly to stand again, this time without feeling like your ribs were going to break. “Does it matter?” you rolled your eyes. He was working hard to keep the mystery. “I suppose not. Fuck it, lead on, brave one.” He tried to hide his amused smirk, but you spotted it – it was progress, getting him to laugh or smile and it felt weirdly good. Despite all the weird.

You walked faster, getting to his side, the house and noise getting closer. “Ouch, ouch, ouch…” every step seemed to create a new blister on the soles of your feet, and you made a mental note to ask for a pair of shoes, as soon as you could. You were shorter than him, so you had to look up at him – it gave you a weird feeling in your lower stomach. “What was that thing, you killed?” He glanced at you. “An endrega. A giant insect.” You snorted. “Insect my ass. It was a mutation of a scorpion and a spider. Nasty.” He huffed. “You need to know one thing about this place. I don’t know where you’re from, but here? Here things are ready to kill you. One moment, where you’re not paying attention, and it’s done.” “Great.” You sighed deeply.

Not only were you stuck in a foreign country, that seemed to be straight out of a children’s fairytale, with no way home, now you also had to worry about things killing you. You ate a flower earlier. Scorpion-spiders were a thing.

And a whitehaired, slightly rough-looking (but somewhat familiar) man in leather pants was next to you with a sword on his back.

The world had turned strange after wine.

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“We’re here. Come.” He pointed to the wooden door of the house. It was quaint, if you were being honest. Beautifully done with straw on the roof, a steaming chimney and a wooden sign, swaying slightly in the wind, creaking, read: White Orchard Inn.

You followed him, as he opened the door, and you were met with the scent of sweat, warm wool, burning wood and beer. It seemed homey. A loud chatter filled the long room, full of long tables and benches, several men drinking out of goblets made of wood and iron, playing a card game, you didn’t recognize and laughing wildly. Women were around them, some of them a part of the games, the joyous banter, some serving wine and beer – two stood over an open hearth, turning a roasting pig.

A sound of some instrument, you didn’t recall ever hearing before, hung low under the laughter and chit-chatter, and a soft, male voice followed it. You felt completely out of your element, as you stood behind the man, trying to make yourself as small as possible, hiding yourself away from the crowds. You hadn’t noticed that you had stepped closer to him, until his hand landed on your back, drawing you a little closer – you couldn’t tell if he was worried about you panicking again, wanting to make sure you didn’t run or if he just felt how uneasy you were.

He smelled like worn leather, horse stables, fresh moss, smoke from a fire and summer rain.

“Follow me. Keep your head down.” You simply nodded and drew even closer to him, close enough to feel his warmth through the layers of leather.

He led you to a darkened corner of the long room, where the music clearly came from, and sat down, gesturing for you to follow. The figure in front of you was shrouded in shadows, but you could glimpse a speck of blue here and there, as the person moved.

“Jaskier.” The music stopped and the figure leaned forward. Your heart was hammering, scared of what the actual hell was going to happen, who was here and who on earth could call their kid Jaskier.

“Geralt! Took you long enough…” So his name was Geralt. Interesting. The man, Jaskier, looked over Geralt and his face fell, and he laid his instrument (something with strings) down on the table. Geralt grabbed the goblet in front of Jaskier and downed it. “You didn’t even bring the dandelions! I ask one thing, and you forget!” “I got busy.” Geralt murmured, filling the goblet again and nodded in your general direction. You waved quickly and smiled at the soft-faced man in front of you. Jaskier smiled back, a dazzling smile, that rivaled the shimmering threads in his shirt.

“Ah. One flower lost, another gained. Hello, beautiful, fair lady!” He glanced at Geralt. “If he’s paying you, charge double. He’s as stubborn and annoying as a mule.” You chuckled and shook your head. “Not paid, just… Lost. I assume. I’m actually just confused.” Jaskier frowned. “What’s your name?” “Y/N.” he smiled. “Well, fair Y/N, what seems to ail you?” You looked at Geralt, who simply kept drinking. You had a feeling that he was pretending to ignore all that happened around him but was probably picking up everything around him. “I… Don’t know.” Jaskier filled another goblet with a golden beer and handed it to you. You took it thankfully and drank a large gulp – you were parched. It tasted like honey blossoms and cherry. He looked at you with soft concern – Jaskier seemed to be the softer of the two men, and you appreciated the sense of comfort, he brought with him. “I.. It’s going to sound crazy.” “We’ve probably heard crazier.” Jaskier said, nodding at Geralt. Geralt hummed and kept staring into the wall, clearly listening both to you and to the chatter around you. “I got dumped. Yesterday.” Jaskier looked confused. You rolled your eyes. Right. They talked like a medieval fair gone wrong. “A man left by yesterday, refused my love, whatever you want to call it. I drank heavy amounts of wine, fell asleep in my home and woke up on a hill, surrounded by grass and almost got killed by a wolf. This one…” You clapped Geralt on his shoulder, making him grunt. “Saved my life. Twice. So, now I’m here, shoeless and probably very far away from home, and I actually don’t have any clue how I got here or how I’ll get back home.” You mulled it over for a few seconds. “And I need shoes. Plus probably a knife, if I’m ever going through a forest again.”

Jaskier leaned back, staring at you with brows furrowed. “You sound different.”

“She’s from another time, you donkey.” Geralt said with an air of annoyance. You stared at him. He knew?? You had had an idea about it, but weren’t too sure about it, but he just… Knew??

“oh.” “Anyway, I have no idea how to get back home. This dude brought me here, so I’m… Closer to something, I guess.” Jaskier looked at you with soft eyes.

“Well, before doing anything to get you anywhere, we need to take care of your clothes and get you some shoes. No lady should walk shoeless.” He sent a pointed look to Geralt, who shrugged and sat his goblet down. “She kept up.” You rolled your eyes.

Jaskier gestured to the barmaid and she came over with a bright smile, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Can you assist this beautiful woman with some new clothes and comfortable shoes? We’ll pay.” He winked at her. She giggled and blushed, looking you over once. “Of course. She seems to be the same stature as my daughter.”

As you got up to follow the barmaid, you overheard Jaskier, a laugh already poised on his lips.

“She reminds me of you, oldie.”

Next chapter

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